Candidates
by Geo the Arch
Summary: The life of the Candidate Barracks at Ista Weyr is never calm, but when the roughest Candidate class in fifty Turns arrives, the CandidateMaster must use every trick he has, in hopes to ready his charges for the Hatching. Note, set in the Fourth Pass
1. Memories

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Welcome to my first story here on fanfic. I intend for this to be a slightly different view on life in the Candidate Barracks. You'll see the story from several different viewpoints, everyone from the Weyrleader on down to the bully of the younger Candidates. That said, please sit back, relax, enjoy the virtual complementary snacks.

Do note, as much as I would love to claim Dragonriders of Pern as my own, it is owned by Anne McCaffrey and I get nothing out of this but the satisfaction of writing.

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**Chapter One**

**Memories**

Here stand I, at the edge of the world. The cliff in front of me opens onto empty sky. I stand here and survey the world. All is wrong; all is not as it should be. A piece of me has gone missing, never more to return. Where is my heart-friend, my true love, my only life-mate? Gone, she has gone and left me to this forsaken world. Left me here to suffer in silence, watching the turns pass slowly by. I am here alone.

With a great joyous cry I leap off cliff. I'm coming Haronth, I'll be there soon! Down I plummet faster and faster, lost in the fall and my approaching end. The pain will stop, and I will end, to rejoin my beautiful Haronth. Soon the ground appears, closer and closer still and I close my eyes, waiting for the impact. None comes, and I open my eyes to see the Infirmary. It is quiet here, I am alone in this bed. Every once and a while a Healer checks on me, rebandages my thread-scores, and gives my numb-weed. Then she leaves me to the quiet, and still I am alone.

Maybe one day my wounds shall heal, my body will be whole again. I will walk and eat and talk, but still I will always be here alone. For he is gone, and will never return to me. They tell me that this journal saved my life, if I had not tucked it under my Fall robe I would be dead. Even now it is stained with our blood, together. This is all I have left of us.

*****

The deep tenor voice of the CandidateMaster fell silent as he finished reading the passage. Slowly, reverently, he closed the journal and set it gently on the desk. Silence reigned as he looked around the room slowly. Many of his charges had tears in their eyes, and though he'd never admit it, it had taken candlemarks of practice to get through the passage without leaking a tear from his own eye.

Letting the silence continue for a moment he bowed his head, waiting for what instinct and old age told him was the right moment. "Lads and Lasses, I'll be blunt. This is what awaits a number of ye' who Impress. This is the price all Dragon-men must pay. The price my Weyr-Mate paid those many turns ago."

Here, his voice cracked, and he had to fight to avoid a tear, it wouldn't do for the young'uns to see the Old Man crying. Pausing a moment more he took a deep breath, then continued, "The risk is plain, you all saw the journal. Now, the question you must answer is this, "Does the reward outweigh the possible cost? Someone who will love you all their life, for the pain of separation when they die."

His voice became ever so slightly softer and quieter. "The choice is yours my Candidates, find the answer in your own heart." Speech finished he slowly turned back to the desk he had set the journal on. Picking it up, he turned and strode out the door. Oddly, for a few long moments after he had left, no-one moved. Then as per usual, a rush for the door commenced and the day's lesson was officially over.

Back in his office, CandidateMaster Hed'ron sank into his chair, somber but mildly pleased with himself. His current Candidate class was roughly finished with its turn's worth of lessons. Soon the Queen on the Sands, Alkeriath, was expected to allow the class on the Sands for an Egg Touching chance. Yes, this class was almost ready, which was an incredible thing considering how they had first arrived almost a turn ago. Chuckling softly to himself Hed'ron leaned back in his chair, remembering the events that had passed since the arrival.

That first day; well he hoped the next class had either half the attitude or half the size, for breaking his current class down had taken enough effort to make him consider requesting a transfer to the Weyrling Barracks. Scratching his white bread with one hand, Hed'ron remembered that he'd had help. His Assistant CandidateMaster had been invaluable, even if he was a bit green behind the ears. Even one or two of the Candidates had contributed, in a most unusual way. Young Gante had drawn up his poem as a satirical tune, and now… Well there was a very large copy posted boldly in the Common Room, and while he hadn't given his approval, he had prevented his Assistant from tearing it down on the first day.

To think it all had begun with that first turbulent day. Lost in memories, Hed'ron leaned further back in his chair, propping his feet up on the desk. Oh, yes, he still remembered.


	2. Search Results

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Right, here's chapter two. Taken from Hed'ron's viewpoint once again, our local Candidatemaster realizes that this time he may have bitten off more than he can chew.

As always this is Anne McCaffrey's world, not mine. I get nothing out of this except fot that warm fuzzy feeling when I get a review.

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**Chapter Two**

**Search Results**

-Roughly half a Turn ago-

The sun shone brightly on the Istan Weyrbowl. The warm wind blew briskly making the oppressively humid day bearable, to a degree. Down in the Weyrbowl amidst the usual daily activity of the Weyr, a figure paced back and forth near the edge of the black pumice wall. Near him a large brown lay drowsing in the warm summer sun, watching his rider pace with a good degree of amusement.

Though his dragon was in high spirits, his rider, CandidateMaster Hed'ron was not. The Searchriders were long overdue by now. They should have been back two days ago with his next class. His frown deepened; surely the pickings weren't that slim. Most Turns people would beg to come to the Weyr and stand, but if the dragons didn't give their blessing, there was little hope for them to impress, and they wouldn't be permitted to attend and stand.

So the wait continued, stopping only for a lunch break and brief nap out of the sun, thanks to Regoth's wing. It was late afternoon when finally the bugling of dragons grabbed Hed'ron's attention. For the first time in the past four days he smiled. However it was not a happy smile, but one of anticipation. Every Candidate class had its own quirks and he loved working with the Candidates, helping them conquer what fears, attitudes, and worries they held inside them.

As he watched the wing of Searchdragons spiral lazily down, Hed'ron squinted, trying to see the people mounted A'dragonback better. Frowning again, he took a moment and addressed his brown mentally, "Regoth, how many Candidates do you see? I see far too many riders with one candidate and two with none at all." Regoth stirred and lifted his head skyward, examining his fellow dragons a moment before replying, "I count twenty-two Mine."

Muttering a curse Hed'ron recounted as the people became visible to him. Twenty-Two was an awful number. Surely there were more, perhaps tying up last minute details before heading to the Weyr. Deep in thought, Hed'ron realized that if no more were found, or on their way, he'd half to send to another Weyr for more Candidates. It would be incredibly embarrassing for the proud CandidateMaster, but Hed'ron would rather beg a hundred candidates before seeing a newly hatched dragonet go Between.

Regoth rumbled in agreement and then bugled his own welcome to the landing wing. Now standing with arms crossed, presenting an imposing picture, Hed'ron watched as riders helped their charges down and gathered them in a group. The Candidates belongings went in a separate pile, to be picked up after Hed'ron gave the group a talking to and went over base rules.

Soon enough, the Wingleader of the Search-Wing made his way over to Hed'ron, looking none too pleased. "Hed'ron, I'll be quite honest. I don't envy your position. This lot we brought in was all the dragons would even think about considering. Between you and me, they're lookin' to be a rough crowd. You have the usual bully or two, but all of 'em are clearly grouped already. You'll have use every trick in the bag to get'em in line for the Hatching."

Hed'ron nodded, "Well, it's a start at the very least. I'll take them from here C'tar. Give them a few sevendays and I'll have them running like a fine tuned Wing." The Wingleader nodded, and turned back to his dragon and Wing. Several moments later the dragons all rose as one, then scattered to their respective Weyrs. The candidates watched all this with mixed emotions Hed'ron noted. Some didn't care, others looked fascinated, and then there were the three in the center of the crowd that appeared to be scared out of their wits.

A few moments more were spent in inspecting the group, and how it had divided itself. Then satisfied with the general notes he had mentally taken, Hed'ron started what he affectionately called "The Walk." It would be the first time the candidates would truly notice him, and they'd better learn fast, that he wouldn't take nonsense and disrespect. Arm held to his sides, Hed'ron paced, rather then walked towards the candidates.

By now, he had their notice and most were staring at him, probably wandering who in Faranth's name he was. Eyes fixed on the group, Hed'ron stopped and crossed his arms. Then in a gruff professional voice he began to speak. "Alright you lot, listen up and do it quick, I've got little patience or time for those who don't. I am CandidateMaster Hed'ron, and for at least the next Six-month your immediate superior. This is Regoth, and his commands carry the same weight mine do. Now-"

Caught in midspeech, a young man interrupted him with the rudeness of a Holdless person. "CandidateMaster, bah. More like old geezer if you ask me. I could whip him any day." He then became aware the Hed'ron's inquisitive face was roughly six inches from his, and flinched. Hed'ron's voice was an interesting one, half filled with polite courtesy, and half dripping with venom, "Candidate, are you challenging your superior? I do believe I asked you to be quiet. On the other hand, if you think you can beat me, then by all means try. Let's get trivial matters done with now so the real work can be done sooner." He waited a moment longer, then getting no answer from the surly boy, turned his back and began to walk away.

It was at this time the boy chose to move, and springing forward, he threw a kick at Hed'ron's back. Unfortunately for him, his foot did indeed hit something. That something happened to be the CandidateMaster's hand, which then proceeded to enclose afore mentioned foot in an iron grip. Having turned around when he heard movement behind him, Hed'ron took the scene in for a moment, then in a seemingly careless movement kicked the boy's other leg out from under him, watching as he fell heavily to the ground.

Then, seeing that the boy was in no way injured, Hed'ron helped him to his feet gazing into the boy's eyes all the while. Shocked that his trickery had failed the boy stuttered for a moment that spat out, "You can't do that! You can't hurt a candidate, that's Illegal. I'll tell, tell the Weyrleader!" That last line was such a smug one that it took all the CandidateMaster's self-control to refrain from doing anything further. "Can't I? I believe I just did. Furthermore who do you think gave me this job? The Weyrleader gave me the power to use whatever necessary method to get my points across. However, if you'd like, we can go talk to him, and see what he says about a rider defending himself…"

Hed'ron let the point hang for a moment, and then when no answer came, as expected, he motioned the boy to return to the group. Once more he began to speak, "Before I continue, is there anyone else who thinks they can best me? No? Very well then, where was I? Oh yes, for today, all that I will be doing is assigning your respective cotrooms and cotroom partners. Once that is finished, we will extensively go over what you are here for, what you will be expected to do while here, and the rules that will and already do encompass you during your stay in the Candidate Barracks. Any questions?"

None came, and giving a little nod of his head Hed'ron spoke once more, "Very well then, grab your possessions and follow me." As a general group, the new candidates drifted over to the pile of belongings, and after a scramble to find his or her own bag a rough semblance of a line formed and Hed'ron led the candidates to their new home. Walking along Hed'ron was thinking fast. It had been a good thing he had been able to block the kick. He wasn't as young as he used to be, and if he lost even a grain of respect from the candidates he might as well kick them all out and resign his position.

This class was something he hadn't encountered in a long time. The only thing holding them in line was the threat of being kicked out and not being able to stand. Even the usual intimidation act he used for about the first fortnight wouldn't work long with this lot. If he was lucky he could stretch that out a sevenday, but any longer and it'd be really stretching it. Frowning Hed'ron continued the walk to the Candidate Barracks, hoping fervently that his day would somehow, inexplicably, improve.

-End Chapter Two-

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Note: Right the next chapter will be a while in coming. This week's promising to be a long one and I expect to have little if any writing time. That said, a different viewpoint coming up for next time.

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	3. Of Cotrooms and Cotmates

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Life is full of surprises, isn't it? I had't forseen the extra time I'd be given and so with a bit of shock myself, I present Chapter Three. As always reviews are nice. They encourage me to work faster in getting new pieces out for you all to read.

As always, Pern is not my creation, it belongs to Anne McCaffrey. The only thing I get out of this is the satisfaction of causing mayhem in the Weyr.

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**Chapter Three**

**Of Cotrooms and Cotmates**

As the candidates began the short walk to their new home for the next six-month, a new Candidate by the name of Rephal pondered his new situation. One of the more coherent newcomers, his sapphire eyes darted about the Weyr, taking in every aspect possible and committing it to memory. Every once and a while his jet-black locks would obscure his vision, and he'd lift the hand not preoccupied with luggage to brush it out of the way irritably. A Holder from Keroon, this was the first time Rephal had ever been close to a Weyr, and every aspect fascinated him.

In fact he was so caught up in taking in the sights he did not notice when the person behind him intentionally ran into him. Being roughly shoved finally made him snap out of the trance he had been in, and surprised he looked behind him. A large boy with short blond hair was scowling at him, "Watch where you're going shrimp, next time I'll knock ya over."

Mumbling a hasty apology Rephal hastened his pace and soon enough the Candidates passed through the decent sized hole in Ista's Wall that lead to the Candidate Barracks. Up at the front the CandidateMaster shouted for everyone for stop and in a jumble mass the group did just that. Calling for quiet, the CandidateMaster's voice boomed around the enclosed space. "Alright now, listen up! This is your home for the rest of your time until you either Impress or choose to leave of your own will. You will all note that the Barracks is in the shape of an oval. On the outside of the Oval are classrooms, latrines, the bathing rooms, my office, and the store rooms. Directly ahead of you are the Cotrooms which are where you will be sleeping for our time together. On the other side of the Cot-room hall is the Common Room, where you can gather to do assigned work, read, socialize, and so on."

The CandidateMaster fell silent for a moment, and Rephal was able to make out the man giving his fellow Candidates a good looking over. Then after a moment, he began to speak once more. "The cotrooms bunk two people each. After I finish explaining we will proceed down the hall, and I will assign two of the same gender to a cotroom. Are there any questions at this point?" Silence fell once more and after another few seconds the group started shuffling forward, following the CandidateMaster apprehensively.

After a few feet, the CandidateMaster spoke again, "Right then, listen close now, as I indicate you, come forward and give me your name and former occupation. I will then assign you to a room and we can get on with the day. Right then, you there, yes in the middle, name please." A girl with flowing brown hair walked to the front and gave her name to the CandidateMaster, "Sri, sir. I'm a Harper." Nodding, the faint sound of a quill on hide reached the groups ears. "Thank you, let's see… Girl, in the very front, name please." A small girl with short black hair stepped forward and crossed her arms. "Zanna, I'm a Holder." Standing on tiptoes Rephal saw the CandidateMaster from, "You mean, Zanna sir. Show respect to those ranking you always." This only seemed to irritate the girl, and she said nothing in reply.

Looking down at his hide again, the CandidateMaster consulted an unseen list. "Cot Three for you two. Stow your belongings and meet back in the Common room." The two girls nodded, and eyeing each other suspiciously went to the second door on the right and entered, disappearing from sight. Satisfied with his placement, the CandidateMaster look over the crowd again. Suddenly, Rephal realized that he'd be here a while.

The afternoon dragged on, and slowly, two by two, new Candidates were assigned their rooms. For the most part the process went smoothly. Even the boy who had tried to knock the CandidateMaster off his feet earlier accepted his assignment without argument. Alas, the peace was not destined to last, as the final four Candidates were given their room assignments. The four left were Rephal, his earlier assailant, a heavy set, but not necessarily fat, brown haired boy, and a little lad with brilliant red hair. Consulting his list for what seemed to be the millionth time, CandidateMaster Hed'ron made his final selection of the day. You with the red hair, you're next. The boy stepped forward, and sated his name in a surprisingly pleasant voice. "Brenon sir, I was just a Holder." Nodding curtly the CandidateMaster indicated Rephal, who after disguising a sigh of relief stepped forward.

"Rephal sir, I'm a Holder as well." He suddenly felt rather than saw the CandidateMaster's gaze fall on him. "Very good then, number 23 for you two. Off you go." Then he turned to the remaining two, and motioned them to step forward. Names please Candidates. The bully from earlier grunted out, "Khat. I don't want to be with him." Still in hearing distance Rephal winced mentally as silence fell heavy and thick. "Don't want to be with who I assign you to eh? Well, that's right enough." The bully grinned thinking he'd gotten away free, but was stopped by the CandidateMaster's next comment. "All you have to do to change rooms is write a two page report for me detailing why the change would benefit your peers and the Candidate Barracks overall. You can turn it in to my office, and it will be gotten to in due time."

This obviously was not the response that the boy had been looking for, but, with no other argument he was forced to accept the assignment with the other boy, whose name was Doren. They were assigned number 19. Even as he walked down the Hall, Rephal was willing to bet a mark that one of the two would get thrown out before a month had passed. However there was not time for idle thought now, he had to get unpacked in a hurry. Reaching the door labeled 23 he pushed it open and got on with the chore of unpacking.

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Who can say when Chapter Four will come? I certainly can't. But I can tell you this, we will once again hear from our Beloved CandidateMaster as he strive valiently to knock some sense into his class. Next up is **The Rules**.

Until Then.

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	4. The Rules

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After a weeks time, I present Chapter Four. We have in it, the shortest Brawl ever, and possibly a good deal of sarcasm. That said, any Canon experts running around, If I've forgotten anything, please let me know. Thanks.

Note, as always, Pern is not mine, Anne McCaffrey is the owner of the wonderful place, and the only thing I get out of this, is the thrill of hitting submit at 11:57pm.

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Chapter Four

The Rules

Scritch, Scritch, Scritch, went the CandidateMaster's quill as he hastily scribbled signature after signature onto Candidate forms. He had given the new Candidates a generous amount of time to get unpacked, a whole Candlemark to unpack then try to get along with their fellow Candidates in the Common-Room. He was doing the least favorite part of the job, paperwork. Even as he thought about it, the CandidateMaster wondered briefly why it was still called paperwork, turns after the last paper press had gone silent. Technically speaking it should be hide-work now, but for some odd reason paperwork it remained.

Sadly, whatever he chose to call it, it needed to be done and fast. He knew he was running on borrowed time with this new group, and he'd best have the forms ready for them to complete before they got restless, or Faranth knew what would happen. Still writing madly Hed'ron continued the frantic dashing off of signatures. Grumbling to himself as his quill broke; he reached for the spare only to be interrupted by the sound of someone in hurry, then a sudden knocking at the door.

"Enter." It was a command that was immediately obeyed, and as the door opened, Hed'ron recognized Sameon, one of the three remaining candidates from his last class. Sameon was breathing hard, and jumping to conclusions in the way that only seasoned CandidateMasters can, Hed'ron said, "It's the newcomers, correct?" Sameon nodded and managed to gasp out, "In the Common-Room, going to be a fight very soon." Hed'ron nodded and stood, having signed his name three more times while listening. "If you'd do me a favor and sort these into two equal piles, then bring them to the Common-Room. I'd appreciate it greatly. I'll go deal with this mess."

He stood and walked from the office, heading towards the Common-Room by a back route, known only to those who had lived at the Weyr a good length of time. Watching the CandidateMaster leave, Sameon had one thought, and one alone, "Glad I'm not the newcomers." Speaking of which, Hed'ron's walk had brought him to a small entrance to the Common-Room, hidden from the careless eyes of the new group. They were in a loose circle, except for the two or three huddled as far back against the wall as they could get. In the center on the circle were two of the older boys, Khat, and another boy, Doron if his memory was correct.

At present it was Khat who spoke, "If you ever say that about my face again, I'll squash yours." This got a smirk from Doron, "Sure thing, Wherry Face." With a growl Khat drew back a fist, ready to throw the first punch of what would be, correction, would have been, a remarkable fight. However, Hed'ron didn't want blood on the rugs, and so stepped from his observation post, saying in such a quiet voice it was barely heard, "That's quite enough now, stand down or face the consequences." Not realizing who it was behind him, Doron shot back, "You and what army?!" Heads were turning, and the excitement of the impending fight died as everyone realized who the speaker was. Slowly Doron turned around as well, and found himself face to face with the CandidateMaster.

Hed'ron despite the look of ice on his face, rather enjoyed his next response, "Don't need an army, got all the power I need right here." With that, he flourished his quill, and mimed righting on an invisible hide, speaking all the while, "Candidate Doron and Candidate Khat have been found unworthy of the duties, responsibilities, and rewards of Candidacy. They are to be removed from the Weyr, on foot with rations and not to be readmitted into Candidacy. Signed, CandidateMaster Hed'ron."

"It's easy as that lads, and somewhat quick and painless, for me at least. How would ye feel showing back up at the Hall, with that note to your Master, read aloud to the entire Hall or Hold? Not pretty eh?" Two heads slowly nodded, still in shock of the CandidateMaster's act. "Good then lads, ye'll be let off with the usual warning, and all's forgiven, for now. Really I must indeed thank you two, for I had almost forgotten it was time to discuss the rules in my Barracks and about the Weyr itself. Feel free to take a seat, as this may take a bit." New Candidates drifted here and there finding seats. Hed'ron noted that Khat and Doron were as far apart as could be, and that despite his tactic of separation while assigning Cots, the groups still were very much in evidence.

Just as everyone was seated, Sameon appeared at the regular entrance to the Common room, a stack of hides in each arm. Spotting him, Hed'ron, called out, "Thank you Candidate, if you could distribute the hides to the appropriate gender, it would be appreciated. Sameon nodded, "Yes CandidateMaster." Hed'ron nodded in approval; Sameon had a good head on him, and had figured out that this was a formal occasion, thus none of the first name business. He went about his task quickly, and when he was finished, withdrew, leaving once again, the New Candidates and their Master.

Hed'ron took a moment, staring the new class in the eyes, each and every one of them. He noted reactions as always, those who flinched away, those who never met his gaze, and then, the three who met his gaze head on. Then it was time for the rules.

As I list the rules out, quills and inkpots will be going around, fill out the form given to you and when I am done speaking place them in two piles, girls on the table to my left, boys the one on the right. Am I understood?" Not a sound came from the candidates, but Hed'ron saw a good many head nodding.

"Very good. I'll start with the Weyr rules as they will pertain to you longer then the Candidate Barracks rules will. First off, any malicious fights, demeaning conduct without ample reason, disrespect to those ranking you, and any misconduct of a sexual nature will be reported to both myself, and the Head Women. If it must go to the Weyrleader…Well, you'd better pack your bags. Secondly, to earn their stay at Ista, each Candidate is required to do service to the Weyr. This could be anything from mucking out the Weyrling Wallows, to scrubbing dishes, to grounds work. Assignments will be changed daily, with five Candidates working in a group. Groups will be changed each Sevenday. Neglect of service to the Weyr will be punished by confinement to the Barracks when not on service duty."

"Thirdly, as Candidates you are required to help fight Thread. In your case, you will be breaking, sorting, and bagging Firestone for the Weyrling Couriers. You will have to earn this assignment, as I will not assign you to it until I am sure, beyond all doubt, that you are of good character." He faded off, mentally apologizing to the New Weyrlings for the extra Fortnight or two of Firestone work. "Next, is the general law of the land, any item stolen, borrowed without returning, or cheated for, will be required to be returned in pristine condition, plus reimbursement for the crime. Repeated offenses may result in being required to report to the Weyrleader and expulsion."

Stopping to briefly rearrange his mental notes, Hed'ron looked around, seeing many regarding question five on the form with longing eyes. "Feel free to answer number five with more than one choice. Now, onto the Candidate Barracks rules and schedule in general. While here, your personal life is yours. You are not obligated to reveal anything about it to anyone you do not wish to. Excessive prying is considered an offense and can be reported. Rules about theft, work, and fighting are the same, except I will deal with you slightly harder here because I can. Now, a warning so listen carefully. By now you all have heard about the Goldflights, and later on there'll be a lesson on them. What I mean to say here is this. Anyone, and I mean anyone, who takes someone by force during a Goldflight and tries to blame it on lust is out, no excuses." His voice was a dangerous whisper, daring someone to oppose him. When no-one did, the list continued, "Right, I'm not your mother, so who you choose to entertain with is your own choice." However, and ladies who find themselves with child will not be standing this time around. This caused some chuckling from the boys of the group until the CandidateMaster's voice boomed out, "And the Father of the child will be assigned care duty in the Creche to learn his mistakes, for at least two SevenDays." No-one laughed this time, and still the rules dragged onward.

It was nearly a Candlemark later that the schedule was finished, and by the CandidateMaster's internal clock, just before dinner time. "Alright, at Ista we eat dinner from the Sixth Candlemark to the Eighth. Anyone on kitchen staff will eat before that time, as told by the cook. Before we head off to the Dining Hall, please put your papers where I told you to earlier than, change for dinner and meet just outside the Barracks. That will be all." Having finished his work for the moment, Hed'ron exited, and beat a hasty retreat to his office. Strictly speaking, the class had behaved, but there had been an undercurrent, something that wasn't quite right. Back before Impression, Hed'ron had been a Seacrafter, and his bones, finely tuned to people, were telling him something wasn't right.

It was an upsetting thought; most of his classes were good, willing and helpful. This one, well as much as he hated to admit it, he'd need help with. He needed an assistant.

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Right then, Chapter Five may, or may not appear in the near future. I can tell you this though, in it we get to see what the Weyrleader thinks of all this, and maybe, just maybe meet an assistant. Until then...

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	5. Errands

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And after an incredibly long absense I return. I apologize for the wierd time delay. Enjoy Chapter Five!

As always Dragonriders of Pern belongs to Anne McCaffrey. The only thing I get out of this is watching my number of hits jump drastically after publishing a new chapter.

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Chapter Five

Errands

Dinner had finished, and all the Candidates were back in the Barracks under firm orders to not go anywhere but the latrines, the cot-rooms, or the Common Room. Hed'ron had called in a favor, make that a few minor favors, and three of the senior Weyrlings were currently patrolling the corridors maintaining the peace. It had been Turns since Hed'ron had last needed an assistant, and it had turned into a sort of prideful thing, running the Candidate Barracks by himself. However, with this class nothing was certain, and so after he had finished eating his own meal he took a stroll over to an old friend's Weyr to make a request.

Afore-mentioned friend was in the process of eating his own dinner with his Weyrmate, when his dragon interrupted the pleasant evening, "Mine, Regoth's rider would like a word if you are not too busy." Stopped mid-bite, he replied, "Ah, it'll be the new Candidates, invite him in please." Thought to dragon completed, the Rider finished his bite, and after complementing his Weyrmate on her cooking, stood and walked to the entrance to greet Hed'ron, who was just walking up the convenient set of stairs that accompanied the Weyr. "Hed'ron you old Seacrafter! What news from the Barracks today?" Ista's Weyrleader was definitely in a good mood today, drills had gone off without a single issue to be noted.

Hed'ron climbed the last flight of stairs, and greeted his leader in similar fashion, "Good, bad, and worse, take yer' pick Apprentice." The two men chuckled, remembering times long ago on the open sea when all was either work or play. "Come in, come in, Kela's just starting to clean up dinner." In the Weyr, it was a closely guarded secret that yes; the Weyrwoman did do other things than point out where other people had missed a spot. Together the two men walked past the gleaming dragon which lay asleep on the ledge. Alkeriath shone a deep healthy golden color, and as they passed the Weyrleader said quietly, "Another month and she'll be ready to rise." Hed'ron nodded and said nothing, thinking to himself. That meant he had a month to make his male candidates gentlemen. Passing through the inner door of the Weyr, the Weyrleader sat down in a comfortable wooden armchair that had seen many Turns of use, motioning for Hed'ron to take the one opposite.

"Alright then Hed'ron, let's have the good news first, the bad second, and the worst last. Silence fell for a moment as Hed'ron fought to find suitable words in his head. Finally he resorted to the well-aged language of an old Seacrafter-turned-Rider, "Well, the good's very short, an' I expect you've already heard that th' new Candidate's are settlin' in. The bad news is that there's only twenty-two of 'em, and the worst part of the whole shardin' deal is that as a whole they're shapin' to be a mob more than a' bunch of potential Riders. Just this afternoon as they was getting' here one of the little upstarts insulted me, then when I invited him to a contest of skill, so ter' speak, he declined, then when my back was turn'd he tried to boot me over. I caught 'im though. T'would have been bad if it 'ad connected." He faded off for a moment, and silence reigned as the Weyrleader thought hard and fast. Insubordination was unacceptable, and he knew Hed'ron was worried as he had shifted back into his old accent. "So what you're trying to tell me without telling me is that you need an assistant, correct?" Hed'ron nodded, "Aye, if you could spare a seasoned brown or blue rider I'd be eternally grateful."

Still thinking the Weyrleader spoke slowly, "Well, brown's out of the question, I need every Rider we have in the Wings. All my seasoned blues are in use as well. At the very most I could give you a fresh blue or a somewhat experienced green. Your call." Hed'ron frowned again, "Not exactly what I needed to hear, but I'll take the green, long as it's a male rider. A lady assistant at this point and time would be nothing but bad news. The Weyrleader nodded, "Very well then, when I get time this evening I'll work out who's it and have him transfer over to you in the morning. I'd invite you to stay for a drink, but I suppose you're going to take a trip over to Telgar and possibly Fort then." Hed'ron nodded slowly, "Aye, though I think I'll pass Fort by, the CandidateMaster and I have a…History of sorts." He faded off, and after a moments silence stood, "Thanks as always for listening to an old rider's complaints." The Weyrleader stood as well, "Any time my friend. Oh, shall we plan on doing the usual next Restday?"

This reminder brought a smile to Hed'ron's face, "Oh yes, they need a scaring. Until then G'frey." With that off went Hed'ron to the ledge of the Weyr. Watching from inside the Weyrleader saw his friend mount, and with a final wave of his arm disappear from sight as his brown took to the sky.

Several moments later Hed'ron and Regoth were above the Weyrbowl and when the CandidateMaster was satisfied that all was ready, he gave his brown the coordinates for Telgar Weyr and together they disappeared Between. Black, blacker than anything else known to man. A slow count of three and it then they were out in the world again observing a magnificent view of the setting sun as the pair descended into Telgar's Weyrbowl, Regoth answering the Watchrider's challenge. Landing right next to the Candidate Barracks Hed'ron dismounted smoothly and without breaking stride walked through the door and then making a quick right turn. This brought him to his opposite's door, and he knocked briskly, not meaning to be mistaken for any timid candidate.

"Enter!" came the deep baritone voice, and enter Hed'ron did. The conversation of the next Candlemark was a very long and drawn out one. Each of the men took their positions seriously and so dark had fallen before the two equals had finished talking. When negotiations were all said and done, Hed'ron had procured fifteen more candidates, to be transferred once the next gold at Ista had risen. Having made his farewell Hed'ron exited the Barracks and found Regoth waiting, ready for the return trip. Mounting smoothly he hid a yawn and whispered in his mind, "Let's go home handsome, and maybe just maybe, get a chance to rest before tomorrow begins and the chaos of life is renewed." With that the brown sprang aloft and after a gain in altitude disappeared Between, bound for home.

Back at Ista, all was calm. Before heading to bed for the night, Hed'ron had checked in with the Senior Weyrlings that had been supervising the Candidates. There had been no disturbances, though tension had shivered through the air. Sitting in his office, shuffling hides Hed'ron had thought about that. It was as if the class hated each other, which made no sense. Looking for clues he shuffled through the hides that each candidate had filled out. The majority had been Holders… but other than that, there was no defining clue. Except, perhaps the fact that most had been single children. Leaning back in the chair Hed'ron thought on that fact for a while. That would explain the lack of cooperating, and the fights when one didn't get their own way. Still…something was missing, a clue to the puzzle.

Having been in the business for quite some time Hed'ron knew that sometimes one bad Candidate could ruin the mood of the whole Barracks, but it was still too early to start calling names. Of course he had his suspects as to who might be the main dissent spreader, but he needed to give everyone time to settle in and adapt. After that, well then anyone was fair game. That would come later though. For now the mystery persisted, and Hed'ron could only prepare for tomorrow. It would be a culture shock, one even worse than today had been. However those determined to stand would rise to the challenge, and in the end, the willingness to go on would prove who was worthy and who wasn't. Yes, tomorrow would be interesting.

With that thought in his mind Hed'ron rose and exited his office, locking it behind him as he left. The Candidates had no right to be snooping around, but just in case, he locked his office whenever he wasn't in close proximity to it. Sleep, that was what the Healer ordered now, and turning he left the Barracks before turning left, climbing the stairs up to his own Weyr, which was just a stone's throw away from his new Candidates. Hed'ron briefly considered sleeping in his own bed, but dropped the fact. Tonight he wanted to be with Regoth, and that was that. Grabbing a few loose blankets from his cot, he went back into the main chamber, making a nest between his brown's forepaws. Here he was safe from the world, and that was how it should be.

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Right then, isn't that lovely, Chapter Five ending on a peaceful note. Right, sentiments aside I'm hard at work on Chapter Six. Note, from now on the viewpoint will be that of various Candidate's unless I feel that Hed'ron's view is much more interesting.

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	6. Culture Shock

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And Chapter Six is here in another flurry of fevered writing! Heh, anyone who hates exercise will most likely have issues with this chapter. I apologize in advance.

As always, Dragonriders of Pern belongs to Anne McCaffrey. The only thing I get from this is the enjoyment of making characters do mindless chores.

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Chapter Six

Culture Shock

"Everybody Up! Rise and shine my Candidates! Time to get up and start the new day! Up you get now! No time for dallying, I expect everyone up and out in ten or else!" The voice faded slightly, as the CandidateMaster went down the hall, but it was still annoyingly loud. Brenon had woken almost immediately. This is not to say he woke cheerfully, or pleasantly, but at least he did wake. Mumbling something about loudmouth people in the morning he sat up, though it was a close run thing. Sleep was still clouding his brain, and for the most part his vision. He blinked twice, then when his vision was clear look across the room to where his room-mate was still, somewhat impossibly asleep. "Hey, you need to get up…" He watched amusedly as the other boy rolled over, opening one eye halfway groaning, "It can't be morning yet." Sleepy as he was Brenon chuckled, "Well the man in charge says it is, so let's get ready before he pulls something else crazy out of Between. Silence reigned as the two boys got dressed slowly, pulling on outerwear and fumbling with shoes. Then they stumbled out into the hallway looking around to see who else had woken.

As fate had it, they were the very first pair of new Candidates up and dressed, despite their slowness. The old Candidates stood at one end of the hall, wide awake and conversing with each other in low tones. And then there was Hed'ron himself, stalking up and down the row of doors, making sure that every last person was up and actively getting dressed. Slowly but surely other people started to emerge from various doors. Most were still half-asleep, some were still in various stage of dressing, and others still were fully dressed and almost fully asleep. The CandidateMaster made a headcount and when he was satisfied that everyone had emerged raised his voice, "Right then, hope you all got plenty of sleep. For anyone wandering it's just past the sixth Candlemark right now, meaning we've a full Candlemark for exercise before breakfast. We start with a lap of the Weyrbowl and then move to upper body work. Ready? Good, follow me but feel free to choose your own pace once we get outside."

With that the CandidateMaster turned and headed for the exit, followed by twenty-two very unhappy Candidates. Brenon found himself at the front of the crowd, just behind the three older Candidates. As he exited the door, the older three broke into a jog, and Brenon was compelled to do the same. He ran at an easy pace thanks to prior knowledge of his endurance. Finding his stride he heard someone towards the back of the group complaining, "The sun isn't up yet?! What he going at?" Brenon merely grimaced as he surveyed the path he had to take. All the way around the Weyrbowl, a very long way indeed. However if he could keep his pace, he should be fine.

As he jogged the crowd started to disperse, a few sprinting ahead of Brenon, matching the pace of the older Candidates and Hed'ron, who was running at an incredible pace for a person of his age. Most everyone else had fallen back, jogging slowly and in a few cases trying to get by with walking. This didn't agree with Hed'ron and he doubled back, "No waling here lads and lasses, the whole point is for you to get into shape." Then he turned again and retook the lead. Brenon tried to think about his pace, but the fact that his breathing was heavy didn't do much for this. As a Holder he had never run much, and long distances had been things to be thought about, not run. However, here he was running and trying not to collapse from sheer exhaustion. Already his legs felt like rock and his heart was beating at a furious pace. He didn't bother looking back to see where his fellow Candidates were, but the fact that no one was in close proximity said a lot. Even those who had started fast had changed pace to a much less vigorous one. So the run continued, each step becoming harder, more painful. He could barely feel his legs now, as they thumped endlessly into the ground. Then, he was there, correction, half-way there. This fact was somewhat heartening and he was able to run slightly easier. However the break didn't last long, as the wind picked up and made each step a battle once more. Chancing a glimpse back to see where everyone else was, Brenon was surprised to see that most were walking. Granted it was a very fast walk, but even the ones he'd labeled as athletic were walking. Up ahead, Hed'ron had slowed slightly but made no attempt to turn back to motivate the slackers. Slowly, ever so slowly Brenon reach and passed the three fourths marker, and then all of a sudden he had finished.

Exhausted by the exercise he dropped to the ground, trying to bring his breathing back under control. Others who had been ahead of him were doing the same. Hed'ron and the three Candidates from the last class were on the ground as well, but instead of gasping for air they were doing push-ups. As they continued to work their arms, other members of the current class staggered in. Most were just as tired as Brenon had been, but there were the few smart ones who had paced themselves and managed to not collapse in a heap. After a rest all too short, the CandidateMaster's voice broke the silence once more. "Right then, twenty push-ups, then abs work for all of you." A collective groan emitted from the class at these words. Hed'ron's voice rang out again, "Make that thirty. If you can still complain I'm not working you nearly hard enough." After that silence reigned, and the push-ups began. Surprisingly Brenon got through all thirty in a somewhat quick fashion. Granted his arms gave out at twenty five and thirty, but that was to be expected. Then, what had been dubbed as the "Sixty Seconds of Pain" began shortly thereafter. To work yet another part of the body each Candidate lay flat on their back and had to raise their legs of the ground, holding them up in the air. Reflecting on it later, Brenon would have rather taken another lap around the Weyrbowl.

It took everyone quite a long time to finish the required exercise, but after the last push-up had been done, it was time for Breakfast and the extremely weary, hungry, and sore Candidates ate what was put in front of them with no complaints. After Breakfast, Hed'ron led the Candidates outside the Dining Hall and gathered them in a circle. "For this morning, and most mornings, provided there is no clutch on the Hatching Sands, you will do chores. I will divide you into four groups, and then you will go with me, the Head Cook, the Groundskeeper, or the Headwoman. Behind Hed'ron these three people waited, small smiles on each of the three faces. Brenon found himself in the group to go with the Head Cook, and to his upmost dismay was faced with all manner of pots and pans for the rest of the morning. Unfortunately for him, they were dirty pots and pans, and it was his job to make them clean. Thus passed a morning that contained much soapy water and having to rewash something as he had missed a spot.

Finally Lunch came, and he fled to the main area of the Dining Hall to eat and possibly try to forget the horrors of leftover porridge. Lunch found him sitting with fellow Candidates, but not saying much, partially because everyone was so tired. Then, as the meal was finished, Hed'ron reappeared and told them that they had a free Candlemark to use as they chose. Once it was over they were to report to the biggest classroom in the Candidate Barracks for the first official lesson. Brenon noted this with care then went back to the Candidate Barracks, found a comfortable chair, and took a Candlemark long nap. When he awoke, it was time for the lesson and yawning, he strolled into the classroom. Surely the CandidateMaster couldn't work physical labor into a lesson. Could he? Judging by what he had seen thus far, Brenon wouldn't bet either way.

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Well then, three guesses as to what the next chapter will be. Anyone who thinks First Lesson wins a cookie. That said it'll be a while in coming as I want to do it justice. Until then,

The Author~

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	7. Why Are You Here?

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And the first lesson is here! I had a whole bunch of fun writing this one, and I hope you have just as much fun reading it!

That said, a reminder. I do not own Dragonriders of Pern, Anne McCaffrey does. The only thing I get out of this is writing the viewpoint of a snobbish Harper turned Candidate.

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Chapter even

Why Are You Here?

Sri had spent her rest Candlemark in sleep, just as many other Candidates had. As a Harper, correction, former Harper, she had been required to do some exercise but never had she ran so far in so short of a time. Even now, her left leg hurt something fierce and she suspected that an ankle had been twisted on the run somewhere. However it was better than it had been, so she did not complain. Tomorrow would be painful though, she hoped that it wasn't anything serious. The thought of even attempting to run made her wince mentally. Tomorrow could wait though, for it was just about time for the first lesson, and the somewhat snobbish scholar was glad that she could finally apply her brain to something that did not involve giant pots and pans.

Rising from the chair in which she had been sleeping, Sri dashed to her cot-room, grabbing hide and stylus. This was going to be fun. After all, wasn't learning the greatest experience there ever was? Despite her leg, which was continuing to protest, she almost skipped down the hallway, ignoring other people's expressions of absolute disinterest for what was to come. So what if others didn't care, she was going to go learn something. Exactly what it is was that she was going to learn remained a mystery, but already her imagination was at work; fascinating diagrams of dragons, scrolls of information to be memorized, the teacher explaining things in vivid detail. Sri was so excited by this fact that a chill ran down her spine, and a grin made itself apparent on her face.

All around her, others were moving towards the classroom, and Sri followed the movement. Why were they all moving so slowly? Did they not know that something amazing was about to happen? Finally, Sri reached the classroom, and with barely contained excitement, entered. She stepped to one side, and looked around, seeing the usual desks for the student, and at the front of the classroom a larger desk, with two men standing behind it, conversing in low tones. Behind the men was a large chalkboard, recently cleaned and ready for use.

Sri chose a seat at the very front, ignoring the looks she was receiving from classmates. Didn't they all know that by sitting up front they had a better view of the board? She shrugged, and unrolled a hide, wondering when the two men up front, one of which was Hed'ron, would start the lesson. All around her people were settling into their seats and fumbling for hides and various writing utensils, readying themselves for a long session of notes. All throughout the process a low buzz of chatter emanated throughout the Candidates, silenced only when the CandidateMaster cleared his throat.

"Is everyone here? Yes? Good. Before we start today's lesson please let me introduce the Rider standing beside me. This is Assistant CandidateMaster K'vo, and his voice carries the same weight mine does. Understand that?" There was a low rumble of assent from the Candidates at large, with Sri's voice chiming in with a cheerful, "Yes." The ACM stepped forward, nodded at the Candidates and said in an off-handed voice, "Believe it or not, your CandidateMaster was around when I was a Candidate Turns ago. I take it you all survived the Weyrbowl run in one piece. I remember thinking I would pass out when he started the push-ups." Nervous laughter came from the class this time, everyone looking to see how Hed'ron took this jibe. If they were expecting an explosion, they were sadly disappointed, "Now see here K'vo, I could outrun you then, and I can outrun now, even though I am twenty Turns older. Enough of that for now, go ahead and get on with the rest of your paperwork." Face suddenly arranged in a comical frown, K'vo nodded and trudged away. Sri watched him go thinking to herself, "Seems like a nice enough fellow, I hope."

Then Hed'ron had the floor again, and Sri was completely focused on him, waiting for the lesson to begin in earnest. "Right then, onto the lesson. Today there will be no need for hide and writing utensils, you can put them away, and get ready to do some hard thinking." And with those few words, Sri's heart dropped. No notes? Disaster! No time for sad thoughts though, for the CandidateMaster was speaking again. "Why are you here? Why are you, as Candidates here?" Silence reigned, and Hed'ron slowly looked over the room, hunting for someone who would answer. Then he spotted a raised hand, "Yes you, Sri, correct?"

Sri nodded, "Yes sir." Hed'ron gestured for her to continue and after taking a breath she went on. "I'm here, because I want to stand at a Hatching." She watched as the CandidateMaster nodded, "Well there's an answer, but not the one I'm looking for. Perhaps you, Rephi?" Somewhat disappointed in her non-correct answer, Sri twisted around to look at the small girl with striking blond hair. "I'm here to Impress sir." Hed'ron thought a moment before replying, "I see. A warning to all of you now. Confidence is a good thing, overconfidence is not. That said, another answer, but not the one I want. Next try please." Next it was a boy who tried his luck, "I want to follow in my Great Grandfathers footsteps, and become a Rider." This brought a small smile to the CandidateMaster's face, "Ah, a legacy eh? Now we're getting somewhere. You're the closest to the answer I want so far. Next?" While yet another boy answered Sri was thinking very hard, trying to put two and two together and get an answer that would be correct. However, something was missing.

She could tell Hed'ron was working around the room, getting answers from everyone. Most of the others were very self-centered, wanting to ride a dragon, wanting to Impress bronze, and so on. Finally the CandidateMaster had gone all the way around the room without hearing what he wanted to. "Well, most of your answers are partially right. However what I'm looking for is this. You, as candidates are here to help save Pern, and all on it, from utter destruction. Even if you never Impress and you return home, you will have made a difference. You will haul firestone for the Wings, you will have helped maintain the Weyr through chores, and you may very well stay on as a Lower Cavern Worker, or take up a craft to help the Weyr. No matter happens on the Hatching Sands, you will have made a difference. That is why you are here, to make a difference. "

The CandidateMaster had stopped speaking, but Sri's head was still ringing with excitement. The thunder in the CandidateMaster's voice had been something she had never heard before. There was a passion in it, a devotion to all he held dear. His posture, the way his eyes moved over the class, his hand movements, all of those things spoke of his commitment to the Weyr. It was truly, an impressive thing, and Sri had to resist the urge to applaud the man. She was excited now, felt like she could go run the Weyr three times and help with dishes. Rarely felt adrenaline ran wild in her veins, and at this moment in her life, Sri had never felt better. Silence filled the room, and in the corner of her mind Sri wondered if that was all he had for today. However, she had nothing to fear, as Hed'ron's voice rang out again.

"You all know why you are here now, I've told you that much. Now you all get to tell me something. As a class, the reason you've came here, it to stand and on Hatching Day, maybe Impress to a dragon. My question now is this. Why should I let you stand? What reasoning do you have that would convince me to let you stand at a Hatching? All that I have seen from each and every one of you so far is an unwillingness to cooperate, sullenness, laziness, insubordination, and a complete lack of teamwork. Why should I give you the honor of standing at a hatching?"

Stunned silence reigned, no one moved or even though about moving. Time became irrelevant as the CandidateMaster stood at the front of the class, arms crossed, daring someone to speak. Sri was thinking again. The answer seemed simple, but was it the one he was looking for? Tentatively, she raised her hand and became aware that all eyes in the classroom were focused on her. Well, all except her own eyes, which were looking at Hed'ron who walked right up to her, "You have something to say Candidate Sri?" She nodded, "We can learn, and we can work, and maybe earn it." It came out very quietly, and only the few people sitting next to her heard it. Sri sat there, waiting for the CandidateMaster's reaction. When it came, after what seemed like Candlemarks it stunned her. "Correct. You can learn from each other, work with each other, and earn that right, all of you, together. For you, my Candidates, it's all or nothing."

Relief flooded Sri's mind, she had given the correct answer. She had been terrified of the consequences of a wrong answer, and now, she was almost giddy. Of course, a correct answer was always a good thing, but this one had been crucial, to her and the whole class. She allowed her body to relax some, and listened to the CandidateMasters voice once more. "We've arrived at the crux of this whole issue now, haven't we? How can you show me that you've earned the right to Stand? No, don't raise your hands. This isn't a question that can be answered right now. This is your homework, and you have until the Hatching Day itself to turn it in. It doesn't have to be an essay, nor does it need to be on hide. All I need to see is that you've earned the right to Stand. That said, today's lesson is over. You have from now until dinner to yourselves. On other days lessons will run longer taking up this time, but for today use this time to get to know your fellow Candidates. Dinner will be in a Candlemark, and afterwards, report back to the Barracks for final orders for today. Class dismissed."

Comments finished, Hed'ron turned and walked from the classroom. Sri watched him leave, wondering half-heartedly how her fellow Candidates would ever show the CandidateMaster they had earned the right to stand. As soon as the CandidateMaster was out of sight, there was a general rush for the door. Sri chose to wait until everyone else left, which not only reduced the risk of dropping her things, but also gave her time to think on the CandidateMaster's remarks. How in the world was the class going to work together to show him they had earned the right to stand? With people like that bully, Khat, was it? They would have no chance. Lost in depressing thoughts, Sri slowly gathered her things and made her way out the door, heading back to her cot-room. She had promised her mother that she would write to her every Sevenday, and now was as good a time as any to do so.

As she walked, Sri noticed that very few people were out in the Common Room. There were the old three, from the last class, and two or three others, but no-one else was around. So much for the CandidateMasters advice to use the time to meet the other Candidates. Now what was she going to write to her mother?

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*Cue dramatic music* Hed'ron's thrown down the gauntlet, how will the class respond? Uh do note, after Chapter Eight, in which we run into the Weyrleader again, things are going to get messy, and even worse than they are now. I promise you now that before the end of Chapter Ten, or so, that blood will be spilt, though who's it is I'm not telling.

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	8. Drills and Proclamations

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Eek! I've been away far too long for my liking. That said this chapter is setting the stage for future chaos, among other things.

As always, Dragonriders of Pern belongs to Anne McCaffrey, not myself. The only thing I get out of this is the joy of running hapless Candidates around in the pre-dawn hours of the morning.

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Chapter Eight

Drills and Proclamations

It was early morning, really early and G'frey, Weyrleader of Ista was in a mood. Last Threadfall there had been a mixed signal in the Weyrling chain of command and as a result half a wing had gone nearly a quarter Candlemark without any firestone. In addition two Weyrlings had been scored severely enough to require an assist by the goldriders. No-one had died, and that was good, but the mess shouldn't have happened, and the WeyrlingMaster was still trying to unravel the mystery. However it was Restday and G'frey was taking a stroll over the Candidate Barracks, to fulfill an honored tradition. Today was the day he got to scare the Candidates out of their wits. Outside the Barracks Hed'ron and his assistant, K'vo stood waiting, talking to each other quietly. As G'frey approached, Hed'ron waved and K'vo saluted. He returned the wave, and joined the two. "Good morning riders, I'm ready to scare some Candidates, how about yourselves?" Hed'ron made a dramatic gesture towards the entrance, "After you Weyrleader."

G'frey walked in, followed by his two fellows and for a moment looked around. Memories came flooding back, of years gone by and card games held after hours. Silently, to himself he murmured, "Two aces." Then he strolled halfway down the cot-room hall. In a voice that made K'vo wince the Weyrleader bellowed, "Emergency drill!! Everyone up! Now! Threads falling and we need you on the lines! Let's go Candidates! Thread won't wait for you to wake up! Hurry now! Every moment lost is a Rider dead!" From a room to his left a voice murmured sleepily, "An who're you to tell us tha'?" G'frey bellowed right back, "Doesn't matter Candidate! If Dragonmen must fly when Thread is in the sky then Candidates best be bagging Firestone for them!" Looking around G'frey saw the three older Candidates dash out of doors, wearing night-clothing and day shoes. They shot by him and made a bee-line for the exit, heading to the Firestone dump. G'frey smiled on the inside. That's three ready and gone! They can't do it all! Let's move it Candidates! Now!" Two more boys staggered out of a room, looking around sleepily. G'frey advanced on them, "The stone dump! Now! You'll be told what to do there!" They nodded sleepily and took off at a run.

Idly G'frey wondered if they remembered where the firestone dump was, but dismissed it. The other three would still be running, giving them someone to follow. Now three more Candidates had emerged, one trying to tie a sandal, the others barefoot. "Follow the others! Now! Let's go!" G'frey kept up his shouting until every last Candidate, shoed or not, was out the door, and then he and the two CandidateMasters turned and at a sprint followed the last of them. On the way to the firestone dump they passed half the Candidates, who could not go anywhere in a hurry without shoes. Finally, limping, hobbling, or running, everyone was there, all twenty-five. The firestone dump itself was a chaotic place, the older three candidates calling orders to the new ones. G'frey, Hed'ron, and K'vo said nothing but watched everything. Finally, activity had ceased and once more G'frey stepped forward to speak. "That was awful! If this had been a real emergency, do you know how many Riders would have died because they didn't have firestone! Thread can fall out of cycle, and we have to be ready! I can tell you that my Riders are ready! However you, Candidate who talk back to superiors, taking your time in reacting to an emergency, don't realize what you'll need to wear, are not ready! You'd best thank Faranth that this isn't a real Threadfall! If it was, the consequences would be horrendous! Now put everything away and back to the Barracks, on the double!"

With that, G'frey spun around and started walking back to the Barracks, flanked by Hed'ron and K'vo, who were doing their very best not to smile. Finally, when they were out of earshot of the Candidates, the three burst out laughing. The Weyrleader knew the drill had been a serious thing, and yelling at Candidates wasn't a necessity, but the hilarity of watching twenty-two people run around, not knowing what to do listening to three older Candidates who were having just as much fun giving complex orders was something else. K'vo, who was the first to stop laughing chimed in, "Like wherries with their heads cut off. That was worse than my class, and that's saying something." Hed'ron nodded, "Yes, your class no longer can claim worst response time to drills." Banter continuing the three reached the Barracks and had a good quarter Candlemark after that before the class trudged in. G'frey and K'vo removed themselves to a classroom while Hed'ron reassumed his role as CandidateMaster, ordering everyone to get dressed and meet in the large classroom.

A time later, the class filed in, taking seats at random. G'frey noted the one thing that remained consistent among them was the fact that all twenty-two new Candidates were glaring at him in a most unhappy manner. Once the last person had sat G'frey arose from the chair he had been sitting in and addressed the class. "Right then, fair warning. Drills can come at anytime, anywhere. You know your station for Threadfall now, and tomorrow you CandidateMasters will show you exactly what to do. You will be prepared. A moment's delay by you could kill a dragon and their rider. And if that happens, Faranth help you… That said, allow me to introduce myself. I am G'frey, the Weyrleader of Ista."

G'frey began to pace back and forth, as the class eyed him with astonishment. "Now, today I stopped by to do two things, one of which is already completed. The second is something for the future, in two or so months. It gives me great pleasure to announce that for the first time, to better understand the duties of Ista's riders, every Candidate will spend a day with a rider in the Wings. It could be anyone from a Wingrider to the Weyrwoman herself you get matched with. As with all things, this will be assigned somewhat randomly. I know each of you has a goal of Impressing a Bronze or Gold, but you never can tell what will happen on the Sands, so it's best to be prepared for any role." He stopped pacing for a moment, gazing at the class again. "Are there any questions now?" Silence. "Good then, I'll be on my way, good day to you Candidates, CandidateMasters." With that G'frey turned sharply and strode from the room.

Hed'ron stepped forward resuming control of the class. "Right, as mentioned yesterday, today is a rest day. That means no chores or work for those of you that behave. Are we clear?" There was a general agreement from the class, which was still somewhat in shock. Hed'ron nodded once, "Very good, meal times are still the same, as is curfew. You are dismissed." He stood back as twenty two Candidates rushed for the door, anxious to escape and enjoy their freedom before it all vanished. When the classroom was empty of all but the two CandidateMasters, K'vo turned to Hed'ron. "We've got our work cut out for us, don't we?" His only answer from Hed'ron was a decisive "Hmph, we'll see." K'vo said not a word, and together the men strolled from the room, leaving it deserted.

* * *

Hmmm, something to look forward to in the future, eh? That said, next chapter is going to span a lot of time, and as promised, there will be blood. Until then, my fellow Pern addicts!

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	9. Day's Passing

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Right, a warning. Mildly suggestive content. It's rated teen for a reason. That said, multiple viewpoints here for clarity and a longer more interesting chapter.

As always, Dragonriders of Pern belongs to Anne McCaffrey. The only thing I get out of this is the thought of writing the next chapter.

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Chapter Nine

Day's Passing

Zanna lounged on grass in the Weyrbowl, hands on her head, enjoying the sight of clouds passing over the Weyrbowl. She was glad it was a Restday, her legs were sore, her arms worn from scrubbing dishes, and her mind worn down from countless hours of hard thought. Not quite a Sevenday earlier she had accepted the search to be a Candidate at Ista. The former HoldBrat at Ista had been better off than some, she had kept in shape all those Turns for a reason. Keeping in good line with authority however… Well that was proving to be a bit harder. Already she had been assigned a Candlemark's worth of extra cleaning in the Barracks for disagreeing with her cot-mat, that Sri. It had been some minor thing or other, which desk should be put where, but the resulting argument had resulted in a scathing talk by the CandidateMaster and chores for the both of them. That was past thought, and Zanna had no intention of reliving the memory. Many pots and pans can do that to a person. No, it was Restday now, and she was glad. Time to relax, and figure out just how she was supposed to survive the next six months with these other people who called themselves Candidates.

Honestly, they were a bunch of blithering idiots. Most had awful taste in dress, many were lacking in common sense, and a few couldn't even read! What on Pern were the dragons thinking when they Searched? Well, what had passed had passed, and she would have to make the best of it. In the meantime, a nap sounded great. Stretching luxuriously, Zanna yawned, and closed her eyes. Maybe she would have lunch when she woke up, yeah, that sounded good.

Thud! "What now?" A very grumpy Zanna opened her eyes, sitting up and looking around. Not ten paces away another person had thrown themselves on the ground. Upon further examination, she determined it was another girl, and one who knew how to dress well at that. The girl was spread out much like she had been, and instead of looking happy that they didn't have to work, she looked rather sad. Where anyone else would have gone over and asked what was wrong, Zanna simply lay back down, and tried to resume her nap. She didn't give a Sixteenth Mark about anyone else here. No, to earn her attention and respect they would have to be something quite special indeed.

Several minutes passed like this, and Zanna had almost drifted back to sleep again when faint footsteps became audible. They walked right by her, and satisfied that she wasn't about to be stepped on, she tried once more to sleep. The footsteps stopped, and suddenly a male voice, "Hey there, you ok?" Now thoroughly disgruntled at whoever the speaker was, Zanna opened her eyes again. It was a boy with shaggy brown locks of hair. He was pale skinned and about medium height. In other words, no one important. The boy was kneeling by the girl that had arrived a little while back, a look of concern on his face. Well, no matter of hers, back to sleep then. "Not really." It was the girl this time. Zanna sighed, why couldn't they go talk elsewhere? Couldn't they see she was sleeping? The girl spoke again, "I miss my home, my ma and dad. I've never been away from home this long before, and I miss them." Seriously considering moving, Zanna didn't bother trying to go to sleep again, instead she listened. You never knew what kind of gossip you could pick up around people. The boy was speaking again, "Yeah, I can't say I know the feeling. I've been a trader all my life, never had any place to really call home except the wagons." Silence drifted over the little scene, then the girl spoke, "I really want to Stand though, I'll survive, maybe." She drifted off sadly. "Maybe, if we aren't driven *Between* by chores first." It was a joke from the boy, and it had the effect he had aimed for, making the girl laugh. "Chores I don't mind, it's all the waiting, the downtime, the wondering I hate." Silence again and Zanna tentatively hoped that they were done speaking. No such luck. "Yeah, I understand the waiting. We don't know what's going to happen when this is all said and done." The girl was sitting now, as was the boy. Zanna heaved another sigh. She was definitely not going to get any sleep here. Time to find a new location. Climbing to her feet she strolled off in the direction of the Candidate Barracks, hoping that everyone was outside on a fine day like this and she could nap in the Common Room. When she got there, she found the two people she least wanted to find, the CandidateMaster and Sri, her roommate. Sri had a quill in one hand and a hide in the other. Hed'ron was talking, "Yes, lessons and Craft time will rotate every day until the Clutching occurs, now if you'll excuse me Candidate; I've work to be doing." Well, the Common Room was out of the question, where else could she go? Certainly not her Cot-room for Sri could come in at any time and would likely make some remark on the general untidiness of her side of the room. Maybe, just maybe she could find quiet along the Lakeshore. Yes, that would do fine.

Time passed. Not gracefully, or even happily in most cases, but pass it did. Candidates grew, filed out, and argued. Hed'ron and K'vo had an awful time of it, constantly breaking up fights between the older boys, stopping the younger girls from arguing, making sure things got done. What little progress that had been made in the first Sevenday was lost. There was no cohesive unit in the Candidate Barracks. Even the older three candidates grew a little less composed. Lessons continued however, with talks of Geography, Weyr ranking, and mandatory essays every week. Chores grew in length as well, due mostly to the troublesome manner of the class. The Candidates had been taught how to help man the Firestone dump, but Hed'ron wasn't letting them anywhere near it in Threadfall yet. Put simply, he couldn't trust them, and so the Weyrlings kept bagging Firestone. Really, Hed'ron had approached his breaking point. As the final Restday of the month came around he resolved to give the class another Sevenday, and if they didn't improve they were gone, every single one of them.

He didn't have the luxury of time for these Candidates. The Weyrwoman's Gold was due to rise any time now, and soon the lessons would get much more serious. The class had to remember that this wasn't a game, it was real, and if they kept on like they were, someone was going to get hurt or killed. He had scheduled a meeting with the Weyrleader for the Restday, and the two of them were going to have a very long talk about the fate of the Class.

Restday came once more, and Zanna found herself headed out to the lake again, seeking quiet from her idiot classmates. The past four Sevendays had been good to her body, toning muscle and improving stamina. However some people never learned, and that Blasted Sri had become even more annoying and, Shardit! She couldn't take it anymore! If that girl so much as made one more snide remark, she'd tear her throat out. Temper simmering; Zanna didn't notice that quite a few of the Weyr's bronzes were in plain sight this day. She didn't notice the flashing red that glanced across their eyes every so often. All she noticed was her own anger, and the next person she saw…

All of a sudden, a tremendous roar echoed across the Weyr causing her to jump and turn to see what it was. Out of a large Weyr flew a gold, who was radiant. Her hide flashed brightly in the sun, and Zanna was dumbstruck by the sight. Then, the bronzes who had been in plain sight all morning were following the Gold, wherever she was going. Angry or not, Zanna was not stupid. She remembered the CandidateMaster's lesson on Goldflights and had put enough together to finally figure out the mystery. Then as the realization struck her, another sensation made itself know. Deep within herself, she wanted someone, and now. Zanna, though a Holder's daughter had experience with lust before. Indeed, she was no virgin, and now aware of her surroundings, realized that there was a perfect young man over on the next rise, already preoccupied with himself. Mind made up, Zanna decided to go keep him company, for a while anyway.

As Zanna wandered over to the young man, the golden dragon, Alkeriath, landed in the feeding grounds. Mercilessly she blooded three herdbeast, and then looked around at her would-be suitors. She growled, and then without a word, took to the skies, followed by the bronze dragons of Ista. Long and high she flew, outdistancing her pursuers by such a great distance that several times she flew in circles, waiting to see them. The sun shone brightly on her back and wingsails, and were those pesky males not chasing she would have truly enjoyed the sensation. So the game continued, Alkeriath using the clouds to confuse her pursuers, often doubling back, pondering her remaining choice of males. Two bronzes left, "Which will it be my dear?" This to Hers, who would hold the ultimate decision. Really, she was disappointed; Terath had not been able to catch her this time. She had lost sight of him early on, and did not know where Hers Weyrmate had gone. G'frey had been a good Weyrleader and it would be a shame if someone fumbled all the work he had accomplished. Then, all of a sudden someone was twining necks with her. Startled Alkeriath twisted her head around, or tried to. She caught just enough for a glimpse to see it was Terath, who had come out of nowhere. "My queen, you fly long and high, but I have followed in the clouds. I remain faithful.

Alkeriath was well and truly trapped now, and surrendered to instinct which had been instilled those many long Turns ago. On the ground, Weyrwoman Kela turned to the body of bronzeriders still left in her Weyr. "Out, all of you. Now!" Then she pointed at G'frey. "All but you." For good or for bad, the cycle of nature continued; in the skies and on the ground below.

* * *

So G'frey remains Weyrleader, good for the Weyr. But what about the Candidates? Well, you'll have to wait for the next chapter, eh?


	10. The Empty Wind

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Here's Chapter Ten, and with it I fufill my promise of blood. Just a few back notes this is set a couple hours after the Flight. Secondly I'm playing with a new format that should make things easier to distinguish. Dragon speech is in italics. Speech has been seperated from the rest. Any question of sugestion are always welcome.

As always, Dragonriders of Pern is not mine, it's Anne McCaffrey's. The only thing I get from this is the thrill of looking at my traffic page and seeing that someone from Croatia had read this! Croatia! Wow.

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The Empty Wind

The sun warmed wind gusted into Ista Weyr with a fury. Trees bowed and swayed under its relentless force. On his ledge near the Candidate Barracks, Regoth was enjoying the effect of the wind running across his back. The Queen's flight had been long and prosperous, for all involved. Even though he had not flown, Regoth had followed the chase with great interest, curious to see who had won the Senior Queen of Ista. Terath had reclaimed the Weyr leadership, and His would continue to oversee the Weyr. Humming in quiet contentedness, Regoth rose to his legs and stretched. Hed'ron, His lifemate, had enjoyed the break from all the stress immensely, and was still sleeping even now. Settling back down, Regoth gazed at the scene set before him. A peaceful Weyrbowl and a happy one at that. People were swimming in the lake; others were sunbathing on the beach. Shifting his gaze, the image of one of the Candidates came into view, he couldn't remember which one it was, but Regoth was sure it was one of the Candidates. The boy looked nervous, and feeling compelled to make sure everything was ok, Regoth directed a thought at him.

_Candidate, are you ok? _

He watched with some interest as the boy jumped, trying to figure out who had spoken.

_Look behind you, on the first level of Weyrs. _

The boy turned again, and looked up as directed. Now that he had the boy's attention, Regoth realized he might as well descend to the ground, so he could hear the boy properly. Spreading his wings he glided down lazily, taking his time so that he landed right in front of the nervous looking Candidate.

_There, you look nervous. Is all ok?_

He continued to watch the boy as he struggled to find the words. The boys clothing was all of a mess, but Regoth knew that was typical after a Goldflight. So he merely watched and waited for an answer.

"Y-yes. I'm fine. Just off to ask the Healers something real quick. T-thanks for asking."

The boy started away again, walking somewhat awkwardly. Regoth watched him leave. Nothing out of the ordinary there. Just another effect of a Goldflight. All the same he filed the little bit of information to tell His when he awoke.

Spreading his wings once more, Regoth crouched, and then leapt to the sky, flapping wings to gain enough elevation. Once he was high enough to circle safely he turned and descended, slowing his speed so at just the right moment he touched back down on his ledge at a complete stop. Folding his wings back to his side, Regoth once again resumed a comfortable position and resumed his watch over the Weyr. Really, the sun was quite nice; maybe he could take a nap. Time passed, and he was just about to fall asleep when a sound caught his attention. It was quite faint, but then again, any sound coming from below was faint. The more important thing was that it came from the general direction of the Barracks. Regoth checked that Hed'ron was still sleeping and then decided to go and see what the commotion was. If he could spare His a bit more stress, by all means, he would.

Gliding down to the ground again Regoth landed right at the entrance to the Candidate Barracks and lowered his head trying to see in the entrance. Through the changing light he was able to make out several figures in the hall, kneeling around something.

_Candidates, what it is that on the ground?_

Several shouts of surprise came from within as the group turned around and saw him at the entrance. Then one of the Candidates got to their feet and came rushing out. Regoth drew back a bit to get a better view of the girl that had come out. There was an expression of fright and horror on her face.

"We need the CandidateMaster! Someone's hurt, I don't know how or why! We found her on the floor…" Regoth had heard enough and his eyes had gone from a gentle blue to a whirling red-orange. Someone had hurt one of his Candidates. Being the Candidate Master's dragon from so many Turns had instilled in Regoth the importance of keeping these young ones safe.

_Run and get a Healer. Now! I will alert Mine._

The girl nodded and set off at a sprint for the Infirmary, but she had a long way to go. Regoth put his head back close to the entrance so he could see what was happening better. One of the kneeling figures, a boy, was clearly in charge, perhaps he had been a Healer? He seemed to know what he was doing. The next step was to alert His.

_Mine, you must wake. We have an issue. One of the female Candidates has been hurt and is in need of aid. Have sent another Candidate for a Healer._

Hed'ron awoke suddenly, haring the words. Someone hurt? "Son of a Wher! Why does something always have to shardin' happen?"

He rolled out of bed, scrambling for his boots and over-tunic. He had an idea what this was about and if it was, nothing good would come of it. As he pulled on the second boot he felt adrenaline flooding his veins. The added energy would be useful, for whatever had happened would require hours of Hidework, no doubt. Regoth had ascended to his ledge again, ready to transport his rider down to the Barracks. Now dressed, it was up to Regoth's back and down to the Weyrbowl, swearing to himself all the time.

No time for straps, he'd take the risk to save time, knowing that someone was hurt, one of his Candidates, was hurting. The fact that this was an awful class was driven out of his mind, so was the fact that whatever had happened had probably been on account of a fight. Someone was hurting and needed help. Regoth landed and in a blur Hed'ron was off at a run for the Candidate Barracks.

The scene he came upon was not pretty. There were four or five candidates gathered round another who was prone on the floor. The girl on the floor wasn't moving. Bad sign number one. Hed'ron was at the girl's side in an instant, barking orders.

"Move, out of the way, now. Someone give me information, now!" T

he boy who had been kneeling at the girls side earlier reported as ordered,

"Facial bleeding, definite bruising on the head sir, numerous scrapes and bruises pretty much everywhere, more or less serious. I suspect that whoever did this took her by force as well, and if all the blood's any sign, this was her first time. She's blacked out right now sir."

The boys report was accurate, and chilling. Kneeling down to get a better look, Hed'ron realized that it was Rephi. Young innocent Rephi who was always smiling. One of the few Candidates who truly tried to work for the betterment of the Weyr. A chill ran down his spine as he felt for a pulse.

"She's still with us. Thank Faranth. Right, two of you go to the storeroom and fetch two of the long wooden poles there, as well as a sturdy blanket. The other two, my office and get the Aid kit there. Move it!"

Candidates scattered like leaves in the wind, as Hed'ron took in the rest of the scene. Poor Rephi, the kind girl hadn't deserved this. He couldn't get mad, not now, but on his oath as a rider, as CandidateMaster, whoever did this would pay.

Then, in a rush, people returned. The girl he had sent to fetch a Healer had returned with not one, but two Healers, the two sent to get stretcher materials had returned as well. While he was very protective of his own, Hed'ron knew when to step back and let the Healers work. As he moved, he took Rephi's hand in his, ever so briefly, saying quietly, promising.

"Rephi, I promise, that whoever did this- They'll pay."

As he stood up, to give the Healers more room Rephi's mouth started moving. Leaning in to catch her words, Hed'ron heard the following.

"Sather, Sather… Help, Sather."

Then the Healers were shoving him out of the way.

Turning Hed'ron realized that there was a crowd gathering. Curious Candidates who had heard the commotion now were gathered in the hall, watching the Healers work. Now that Rephi was in good hands Hed'ron could think.

"All o' ye. The Common Room. Now."

Hed'ron's old Seacrafter accent came and went as it willed. Usually it was only noticeable when he was stressed or angry. Any smart person, upon hearing his tone of voice would have complied immediately. Most of the Candidates did. All but two, Doran and Khat who tried to make for the exit. "

Ye two, The Common Room now. Move it lads, or else."

He watched, eyes narrowed as the two stopped and turned back around, heading towards the Common Room. Then, he followed them, wondering how he was going to get through the next Candlemark without losing his temper completely.

* * *

Well. It finally happened. Something happened, but now the question is not what, but who? Stay tuned to see who the culprit may or may not be.

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	11. Broken Dreams

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Welcome back, to yet another chapter. One crime happened, and now Hed'ron strives to find out one question. Who was it?

That said, Dragonriders of Pern belongs to Anne McCaffrey. The only thing I get out of this is creating a detective story within a story.

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Chapter Eleven

Broken Dreams

Gante lounged in the common room, a small smirk on his face. The candidate had little care that a fellow Candidate had just been forcibly raped and beaten. In fact he didn't give a Sixteenth mark about whoever it had been. Goldflights happened, and the girls had to get used to the fact that things could be rough if they weren't careful. So relaxed was the boy that he actually was smiling a bit, providing an extreme contrast to the gloom and sorrow around him.

He watched casually as the rest of his so-called class came in and settled down. Really, what was the big deal, why did the whole class have to be involved with this? Gante supposed that they were going to get yet another stern talking to and that would be that. Life would go on and everything would slowly get back to normal. Then Hed'ron was walking in the room, and the look on his face wiped any smart remark he would've made from his mind. This was a vastly different CandidateMaster than he was used to; the man looked like he would just love to whip the next person who made trouble. So, Gante sat a little straighter, not much mind you, but enough to show that yes, he could read a person's attitude and react properly. He watched as the CandidateMaster stopped in the center of the room, and slowly turned, meeting every Candidate's gaze with cold, hard eyes. When his gaze met Gante's, the boy flinched, and wondered to himself why he had. This man was nothing to him; he was here for the fun and for a dragon, simple as that.

Another long moment of silence, and then the CandidateMaster spoke in such a quiet tone that Gante had to actually lean in to hear.

"You all know what has happened. I do not know who has done it, but I know it is among a selective few people. Meaning one of you. Each will come to my office, one by one, and we will have a conversation. Be ready to tell me where you have been, and who you were with. We will start with the closest to the Hall."

Gante let out an involuntary groan; the closest to the Hall was none other than himself. Then he noticed Hed'ron staring at him and in the CandidateMasters gaze was a multitude of emotions; anger, sadness, pity, and more. Gante knew that all eyes were on him, and opened his mouth to make a remark- but on second thought, Hed'ron had raised a questioning eyebrow and from what Gante had seen before, this was not a good thing for his chances of staying. So he meekly closed his mouth, and stood.

"After you CandidateMaster."

Hed'ron nodded and led the way, Gante trailing close behind. Down the Cot Hall, an all too short trip, then a quick right, and here they were. The CandidateMaster's office was familiar territory of Gante, thanks to several smart remarks at an unfortunate time. That, hadn't been such a big deal, if one ignored the Sevenday of latrine duty he had been assigned as punishment. This was something different, and every nerve in Gante's body was telling him to say his small piece then get the Shards out of there. The office was in its usual pristine state, no random hides spread on the desk, no trash in the bin, just a stylus, a single sheet of Hide positioned exactly in the center of the desk, and the chair directly in front of the desk. Hed'ron had taken his seat, and with one hand gestured for Gante to sit in the other.

Guste sat, and Hed'ron growled two words.

"I'm waiting."

Cursing mentally, Gante rattled off his day's activities to the best of his memory, hoping to Faranth he didn't say anything that sounded vaguely suspicious.

"I did morning chores as normal sir; I was with Brennon today changing out the glows in the Lower Caverns. Then everyone had lessons until lunch. That was the last time I saw Rephi. I had just finished eating and was heading for the exit and I remember looking over and seeing her with Sri, talking about something. I came back to the Barracks after that and tried to take a brief nap, but the gold rose. I, ah, was with Emli, sir. She'll back my story."

Then, he shut his mouth, hating the awkwardness that his little speech had given him. Gold lust made you do some very stupid things. But he dared not think about that now. He kept his gaze on Hed'ron, watching as he finished jotting notes. Then, the CandidateMaster looked up and gave his brief verdict.

"Very well, get out of here and tell the next person to come in. Then take your seat. No one leaves the Common Room until I'm finished here. "

Relieved to be out of the line of fire, Gante stood quickly, and exited the office, making sure to hold his sigh of relief until he was out of hearing range. Stopping a moment to lean up against the stone wall, Gante reflected on how bad that could have been. If he hadn't been with someone else, well, that would have shot him right up to the very top of the suspect list. He was safe though, and as soon as his emotions were back under control, the Candidate went back to the Common Room, gesturing at the person next to him.

"Alright Rephal, you're up. Go talk to the big man."

He watched with some amusement as the boy nodded and stood, before making his way out of the room. With that he settled himself more comfortably in his chair, if he had a while to wait he might as well catch up on some much needed sleep. He closed his eyes, and let his head rest against the high back of the chair. As he settled himself, Gante became aware of the uneasy murmuring going around the room. It was nothing definite, but the low tones spoke of anger, fear, and sadness. Shifting again, Gante tried to ignore the whispered conversations. This went on for some time, and Rephal came back. He gestured for the next Candidate to go, and the cycle repeated.

On and on this went, and try as he might, Gante could not find an easy sleep. He might drift off for a moment, but then he'd be wide awake again. Finally he gave up, wondering why he felt so restless. Looking around he saw that most everyone else was the same way. Shifting positions for what seemed to be the millionth time, he caught a few words from one of the older candidates.

"It's the Queens, they can broadcast emotions in a general sort of way, and if I had to guess, I'd say that people are learning that there's trouble."

This told Gante just enough to confuse him even more, so he said nothing and leaned back in his chair. Faranth, why couldn't Hed'ron get this done with faster? If this was how things were going to be until the mystery was solved, Gante would drop everything and help, because this was stupid it was wasting time. His time! That said, what could he do? It wasn't like he could sneak over to Hed'ron's office and listen in. Aimlessly, he let his gaze drift over the Common Room, twenty one, twenty two, twenty three...

Mentally he paused a moment, thinking very hard. Twenty three, there should be twenty five total, three older ones, the one talking with Hed'ron, and the rest of his class. He looked around again, counting faces he knew. Everyone was there, except for Emli, who was talking with Hed'ron now, and Sather. All other thoughts were lost when, at that moment Hed'ron reentered the Common Room.

"Where's Sather?"

For the rest of his life, Gante would remember that voice and question. It was a voice so kept in check, it was chilling. The CandidateMaster did not yell or shout, but spoke quietly. It was the eyes that did it, narrowed and grim. It was the look of one who had found his prey. At that moment, Gante did not envy his fellow Candidate.

* * *

Dramtic music anyone? I guess we'll have to wait and see if our missing Candidate is guilty. Any bets?

Furthernote, Thanks to Miz for catching a numerical mishap. If anything refering to the numbers is causing confusion, PM me and I'll re-reedit.

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	12. The Long Cold Road

I'm back. Sorry for the long silence but life got hectic. That said, chapter 12 is here! We get to see Sather's side of the past day or so. Enjoy!

As always, I don't have any claim to The DragonRiders of Pern, that's Anne McCaffrey's domain. The only thing I get out of this is the thrill of writing.

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The Long Cold Road

It was a cold and foggy day along the road leading from Ista Weyr. The island of Ista had an odd atmospheric condition that once or twice a year, due to the seaside location turned the weather turned downright nasty. These few days usually made Threadfall an extremely lethal task, as the fighting wings had trouble navigating in the low hanging clouds. But, Fall wasn't for another three days, and the only figure trudging along the foggy road was an ex-candidate from Ista, homeward bound.

Numbly Sather walked along, head bent against the gusting wind, eyes down. The last two days had been a nightmare, ever since the Goldflight. And here he was now, returning to his home in shame, never to stand at a Weyr again. How he could ever even begin to explain to his parents what had happened was beyond him.

Two days prior, the Gold had just risen, and nature took its course. Sather had been in his cot-room when the sensations had hit him, and in his rush to scramble off the bed and find someone, anyone. Maybe a friend would oblige. All he could think about was his friend Rephi, and how beautiful she was. Staggering off his bed, Sather had stumble into the Hall, and for a few moments he searched the Barracks, looking for Rephi, or any other girl who wasn't with another.

No luck, and in desperation he had returned to his room, and made do with what he could. It was during this time that he was again lying on his cot, and in his exertion, caused the cot to overbalance and tip over. He hit the floor, and everything went black. When he awoke sometime later, he tried to rise, and promptly fell over once more, bruising a kneecap. Lying still a moment more, he again tried to rise and finally made it to his feet.

Head, knee, and back aching Sather had realized he was in bad shape, and that the nearest viable help was the Infirmary. So he limped out of his Cot-Room and began the long and painful walk towards his destination. Each step hurt slightly more than the last, and he suspected that something was truly messed up.

It was about this time that the CandidateMasters brown had questioned him, and the only thing that came to Sather's mind was that, yes, he was alright, just going to the Healers to get something. The walk across the Weyrbowl was quite possibly the longest walk he had ever made, pain shooting through his head and knee in intervals.

Finally, he had made it to the Infirmary, and the on duty Healer had went to work on him with only a brief query. It seemed that they got a lot of this on flight days, and some numbweed and a head wrap later Sather felt marginally better. He had elected to spend a Candlemark in the Infirmary, resting before he returned to the Barracks. By then the bleeding that his fall had caused should have stopped and things could get back to normal.

He remembered closing his eyes to take a nap, and the next thing he knew he was n the grasp of two very intimidating Weyrguards and being marched to the Headwoman's office. The next two hours after that had been a whirl of questions from the Weyrwoman, Headwoman, and a Healer, all wanting to know why in Faranth's name had he raped his friend. Totally caught by surprise, Sather could do nothing at gape at them for a long few seconds before stuttering out that he had no idea what they were talking about.

When asked what he been doing for the past few Candlemarks, he gave his story as best he could. Sather found out the hard way that it is hard to coherently speak when one is nervous and frightened. Still, he had done the best he could, and was subsequently told that he had two options. He could stay around in captivity until Rephi woke up out of the induced sleep, or he could leave Candidacy and escape any possible punishments since he'd be out of Weyr jurisdiction.

As he thought over the two options, something occurred to Sather. Hed'ron was absent from the interrogation. He thought this was strange. Shouldn't the CandidateMaster be involved in this process, if for nothing else to make sure his Candidate got a fair showing? He never appeared until after the hearing had ended. As soon as his interrogators left, Hed'ron entered and stopped right in front of him.

"Why boy? Why did you do it.?"

The words chilled Sather more than any others he had heard that day. It was because his voice was filled with sadness rather than anger. All Sather could do was retell his story, Hed'ron listening intently. After he had finished, Hed'ron nodded once.

"Listen and listen close. I don't know whether or not to believe you. Your story is just vague enough to swing the thing either way. As of now, I am still your immediate superior, and here is my advice. Go ahead and leave, one way or the other, it will be what's best, because if you are guilty, only Faranth will save you from pain. We'll know one way or the other when they wake Rephi. For now, leave, and get out fast, but take your time on the road. Use the Fall shelters and for Faranth's sake don't do anything stupid."

With that, Hed'ron had left the room, leaving Sather just as quickly as he had entered. Thinking it through, Sather knew that the plan outlined was the best course of action. He'd leave, and pray Rephi was able to clear his name. If not, well, it would be a life of scrubbing dishes in dishonor. He rose from the chair, and told the Weyrguard outside his plan. Collecting his few belongings hadn't taken long, and then he was walking out the ground entrance to the Weyr wondering if he would ever be able to return.

That had been a day and a half ago, and he estimated he had walked most of the distance to Ista Hold and his family. As he walked along, he realized another problem would soon arise. Tomorrow was supposed to be a Threadfall day, and he hadn't seen a Fall shelter for a long while. Then again, they were easy to miss in all this fog and dreary cold. He moved closer to the side of the road, resolving to camp a night and the following day in it, hoping against hope Rephi knew, or remembered enough to clear his name. Continuing his endless slow pace, Sather realized that it was almost dusk. Soon what little light he had would disappear and he'd be in the open, on the night before Threadfall. The fog seemed to be thicker than ever, and Sather picked up his pace, moving a bit faster, straining his eyes for any sight of a shelter he could use.

Finally his eyes picked out one of the stone Threadfall shelters just along the roadside, and breathing a sigh of relief, he crossed over to it. The shelter wasn't the most comfortable place in the world, but it sure beat being eaten by Thread tomorrow morning. As he made himself comfortable, the last light faded into the night, and all that remained was the swirling dark fog. Soon, sleep overcame the young man and he drifted off into a restless sleep.

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Hmm, anyone else find it eerie that Chapter 13 will either be really bad news or really good news for the Candidates in general? Hang onto your Riding Straps folks, this plots just getting started.


	13. Dawning

And after another absence I'm back with the next few bits of story. Enjoy.

As always, the DragonRiders of Pern are not mine. The only thing I get out of this is the endless hours of debating how to torture my characters.

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Chapter 13

Dawning

Dawn, and the coming of a new day were hidden by what would be known as the thickest fog in the Pass. It hung low and thick over Ista Island, and from where he lay, more or less comfortable in the Threadfall shelter, Sather did not envy the low level fighting wings today. Sure dragons had no issue with fog, but riders did. The wind that was starting to blow would be troublesome as well. Back at home, no, it wasn't home any longer. Back at the Weyr, Sather was sure that the candidates were being roused by Hed'ron for an early breakfast before tramping off to help prepare the Weyr for the age old fight.

He grinned a moment, Rephal would be half-asleep, Khat would be grumbling about the weather, Doran would be trying to pick up an extra sweet roll from the Dining Hall, and Hed'ron would be watching them all, hurrying them along with a scowl. Elsewhere others would be awaking, readying for the day, riders checking straps and the like, holders checking flame-throwers for any damage. It was going to be a very hard day for them all. For all except him, that was. All he had to do was remain in the shelter until the Threadfall was over. Granted he had no way of knowing exactly when the Threadfall would end, but if the fog ever burned off he could keep an eye on the outside and determine when it was safe.

However, as he ate a road breakfast, the fog didn't clear off. In fact it grew even thicker, so that he couldn't see more that a hands length in front of him. The now gusty wind wasn't helping either, blowing clouds of fog across the landscape. Sather bit his lip, no, he did not envy the ground crews and low level wings one bit. Staring out the entrance of the shelter, he wondered if Rephi had woken up yet, and if so, what she had said. Well, he'd know soon, one way or the other. With a final look at the fog hidden outside, Sather moved back to his bedding. With nothing else to do he might as well take a nap to kill the time.

The nap however, did not come, and for what seemed like many Candlemarks he lay there, contemplating the ceiling of the Thread shelter and the wisps of fog that were blown into his temporary home by the wind. Finally, sleep came for him, and Sather closed his eyes, happily resigned to the blissful sleep, when wing beats became audible. Eyes still closed, he listened to the noise grow louder, knowing full well that it was a sweep rider checking down low. Still listening, his ears now identified the noise as not one, but two pairs of wings. That made him frown, and he sat up, wondering what two dragons might be doing so low to the ground. The wing beats passed right overhead, and then there was the sounding of paws setting down heavily, along with a masculine voice.

"Easy there, we've got you. Cayln, can you dismount?" There was no reply, and Sather, scrambling to his feet, exited his shelter, looking around. The fog was still heavy over the land, but in the grey air he could make out two dragons, one much larger than the other. Current surroundings and Thread forgotten, Sather jogged up to the dragons. He could make out a man now, standing near the smaller dragon, fumbling with what appeared to be riding straps. Another moment passed as he recognized Hed'ron, and then he was in motion again, running up the CandidateMaster.

"Sir-" At the sound of another voice Hed'ron's head snapped to Sather. Recognition lit his eyes, and he began snapping orders.

"Sather, give me a hand with these straps, now boy. Time's wasting. Greenrider here got caught by somm'ut on the low level and we only just caught her. She's not responding, and this Sharding fog isn't doing anything for my vision. Move boy, now!"

Caught in the moment, Sather did not think, but merely obeyed. Out came the beltknife, and in two quick but careful slashes the straps were cut loose. Hed'ron had been watching, and as the straps came loose, the rider of the green slumped over, beginning to fall. In one movement, Hed'ron caught hold of the rider, eased the girl down off her green, and gently laid her on the ground. Going to one knee, both men examined the rider. What they saw wasn't a Threadscore, writhing with the dreaded enemy, but a massive bruise running across the girls' temple. Swearing Hed'ron put two and two together. "Damned Weyrling must have tried a toss to her or someone right near her and missed." Sather nodded, and looked up at the green dragon, who was keening softly in distress.

"What can I do to help?" The question left his mouth before he realized it. Why would Hed'ron want the help of a disgraced ex-candidate? After all, the only thing to do was to load the rider up on Hed'ron's brown and have the green follow as they flew back to the Weyr.

"Lad, you can help me carry her to the 'Fall shelter I assume is nearby. 'Fall's still going on. 'Bout halfway done if time's not abandoned us. Faranth take this fog. I can't even begin to think about the casualty rate from this one. The Healer's are swamped, and they're taking the more serious cases first. I think the worst here would be a concussion. Granted I'm not a Healer." He paused a moment, looking at Sather. "I need you to do the Weyr a service, and watch Cayln for me. Thread's falling thick and fast and we're needed back in the wings. I've got a bit of numbweed on me, as well as a shot of fellis, I'm going to pass to you for if she wakes up. The green's name is Halith, she'll stay just outside the shelter, and keep an eye out for stray thread." Again a pause and deep stare. "Lad, I'm trusting you with this."

Sather nodded, "Alright, help me get her under cover and tell Halith what's going on so I don't get crushed by a panicked green. Then get out of here, and back to where you're needed. Just don't forget about us." Hed'ron nodded, "Alright lad, get her legs, and I'll worry about her head. On three, gently, mind you. One, two, three, lift." Sather did as told, and gently the two carried the unconscious rider to the 'Fall shelter. Once there and on Sather's make-shift bed, Hed'ron passed his few rudimentary medical supplies off to the young man. "Alright lad, be gentle, use your head, and don't lose afore mention head and you'll be fine. I'll bring a Healer by as soon as is feasible." Sather nodded once more, and Hed'ron, seeing that everything was as good as it was going to get, turned and walked back to his brown, mounting, and giving a final wave before disappearing into the fog.

The he was along again, with a distressed green and an unconscious rider. To be truthful, Sather had never felt more alone. And as he sat there, watching the injured rider, the wind rose, whistling eerily. At the same moment, the temperature dropped, going from hot and humid, to mild. Sather didn't truly mind this, but watching the girl, he noticed her shivering sub-consciously. It was Thread-Fall, he had an injured rider who needed warmth, and no heavy blanket. What else could possibly go wrong?

Thankfully, the answer was nothing. Getting innovated, Sather scavenged among his few possessions and with the help of a vivid imagination managed to convert two large night-shirts into a crude but effective blanket. It wasn't very thick, but it seemed to keep the worst of the cool out, and Sather breathed a sigh of relief. Now warmed, the rider slept on. Peering outside again, Sather noticed the fog thinning and breathed a sigh of relief. Visibility was returning, and soon someone would be here to take care of the rider who actually knew what they were doing. At least the girl slept on. If she woke, he'd have his hands full. For now, all he had to do was sit and watch, and hope that the Healer coming would arrive sooner than later.

More time passed, and when he looked out of the shelter, Sather could see the surrounding landscape clearly. Now able to see his whereabouts he whistled softly, home was just around the bend and a bit more. Soon as the Healer came he could go home. The depressing thought of his supposed crime filled his mind once more. Home he would go, and disgrace he would find. Shards. Thoughts running in depressing circles, a pained whimper from the girl snatched his attention. Looking outside the shelter a moment, he saw the green come alert and hoped feverently that the dragon could keep her rider calm.

Gathering what little supplies Hed'ron had given him, Sather approached the girl, and saw that her eyes were open, but only just. Kneeling down beside the greenrider, Cayln was it? Sather met the girl's eyes. "Hey there, take it easy for a moment alright. You took a nasty blow to the head in flight." The rider nodded weakly, but said nothing. Sather bet that she was talking with her green, and getting caught up to speed. Finally the girl spoke. "Head hurts-bad." Well he could do something about that. Taking out the numbweed, Sather popped the lid of the container. "Alright, I've got a bit on numbweed here, don't move, and I'll take the worst of the pain away." He then put actions to words and gently put a coat of numbweed on the bruise. The sigh of relief from the girl told him that the pain-reliever had taken effect, and he relaxed.

"Thanks." Came the girls voice, and she tried to rise, but was met by a hand that kept her lying down. "I was threatened by Hed'ron to keep you in one place and resting, so that's what I intend to do. I know the pain's gone, but that was some knock to your head, furthermore, 'Fall's still going on, and I've no desire to face the wrath of Hed'ron when he comes back and finds you gone. So here you stay until a proper Healer or Hed'ron returns.

The rider stilled again, probably talking with her green again. Then she looked back at Sather with a small grin." So you were in the wrong place at the wrong time and got drafted by Hed'ron? Wouldn't be the first time it'd have happened. I was a Candidate just three turns ago, and sure enough I hung around too long over dinner one night and found myself on dishes duty just because he felt I needed more practice..." This produced a chuckle from Sather and Cayln. The difference was Cayln winced at the pain that returned. "Shards, that hurts. I'm gonna skin me a Weyrling when I get back to the Weyr. The fog was bad, but bad enough to hit a girl in the head from above?" Sather nodded. "Perhaps it slipped?" Cayln shrugged, "Who knows? Shards, I can't talk above a whisper without hurting."

"Then perhaps you should rest like a sensible girl." The voice of Hed'ron came from the shelter entrance, and turning to look, Sather was relieved to a Healer right behind him. Moving out of the shelter to let the professional give the rider a check over, Sather turned to Hed'ron. "'Fall finished then?" The older man nodded, "Yes, and none too soon. I don't want to think about how many pairs got scored today. It was real bad until the fog lifted, and we could see what they could. He motioned to the dragons. "We pulled it off though, and from the Healer's lack of grumpy chatter I'm going to predict that Cayln will be fine." Sure enough, Sather looked over his shoulder and saw both the Healer and the rider emerging, if slowly and carefully. Sather nodded, daring to smile a bit, "Glad I could help."

Hed'ron nodded, and the two watched at Cayln and the Healer made their way to Cayln's green. Sather guessed that the Healer would fly back with the girl just in case something was to happen on the flight back. As the two took to the air, he felt a pang of sadness, for it was probably the last time he'd see a dragon take flight at this distance. Then he turned away, back to the shelter to pack up his things for the last bit of road. The action took all of a minute, and when he was done, and the shelter bare, he took the road again, walking away from the shelter, Hed'ron, and the hope of a dragon. However, the CandidateMaster's voice stopped him before he had gone twenty paces. "Lad! I'm thinking you're going the wrong way. The Weyr's that way!" Sather stopped in his tracks. "But-"His brain was faster than his mouth and all of a sudden he was happier than he'd been in Sevendays. "Rephi?"

"She woke this morning lad, told the Rankers enough to clear your name and then some. Still don't know who's guilty, but I intend to be huntin' the culprit down and seeing justice done." A pause as the CandidateMaster mounted. "Well, you coming?" A grin on his face, Sather dashed back to the brown, and with a helping hand from Hed'ron mounted. Even though it was late in the afternoon, to Sather, a new day had dawned.


	14. By a Rest

Part two of my three part update

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Chapter 14

By a Rest

When Rephi awoke for third time after her brutal beating and rape, she found things quite different than when she had last been conscious. For one, nothing hurt, so much as slightly ached every once in a while. Secondly in place of the stern people who had asked her questions about things she didn't want to talk about, there was only a single smiling female Healer. Thirdly, afore mentioned Healer wasn't doing anything to cause pain, merely sitting in a chair to one side, waiting for her to awake as fully as was possible.

She didn't try sitting up, but rather turned her head just enough so that the Healer was centered in her vision. Than in a voice that was crackly, and rather quiet, even for her, she spoke, "Yes?" The Healer smiled slightly wider, and leaned forward. "Welcome back to the world dear. Just relax, I chased all those nasty people with questions and pokes and prods away. Honestly, they've no idea how to treat a girl these days. Don't they know that the way to get us to talk is with chocolates?" Rephi, although half asleep still could not help but grin. She liked this Healer. "I agree. What day is it?" She'd no idea how long of a sleep had been allowed her, but the lack of time's apparent passing was unsettling. The Healer simply nodded, understanding completely. "Today is the Restday of the current Sevenday dear; you've been sleeping for quite a while. Lucky you, you missed quite the Threadfall earlier today. I swear Riders so much as think that Thread's touched their outer jacket and they're at my door crying for numbweed." This got another grin from Rephi, and the Healer smiled, not bothering to mention that Thread had done much more than that yesterday.

Rephi could feel herself gradually coming to what she knew was her full state of awareness. And that full awareness was a bad thing, for her mind kept trying to wonder to the event of three days past, despite the Healer's jokes and distractions. So she met it head on for a moment, "Have the figured out whom-" The Healer shook her head. "I'm afraid not dear, though the general opinion is that he's so scared of the punishment that he's still running. Never fear, they'll find the man eventually." The elder woman paused a moment, "By the way dear, you've a visitor outside, if you want to see him. Claims he walked all the way back from Ista Hold to bring you flowers or some such."

This confused Rephi a moment and she mentally debated whether or not she would be able to talk to someone other than this nice old Healer without bursting into tears. In the end, curiosity won out. "Who is it?" The Healer smiled again, "That's all he said to tell you dear, I've honestly no idea of what his name is." At this, a male voice, distant but loud became audible. "I've got chocolates as well!" Recognition came to Rephi almost immediately. "Sather! I thought they kicked you out." Smiling at an inside joke, the Healer rose from her chair and walked to the entrance of the room. "You might as well come in Young Master Sather, and save my ears the shouting match.

Rephi tried to sit up, so excited was she, but the pain from her head, among other places, halted the action immediately. In a flash the Healer was back at her side. "Easy dear, you have to move slowly, if at all. Here, let me help." The strong arms of the Healer gently eased Rephi forward, and at the same time rearranged the pillows behind her so that she could sit up without exerting any effort. Head still throbbing slightly, Rephi watched as Sather ambled into her room, one arm carrying an enormous bouquet of flowers, the other a box of chocolates and a stack of letters. On his face was the trademark silly grin she'd come to know as his and his alone. The Healer, smiling to herself still, made a strategic retreat to the corner of the room where another chair and a scroll lay ready. Before she started reading, she aimed a final remark at Sather, "No antics from you Young Master. I've not spent this much time for you to ruin my lovely stitching. She watched in satisfaction as the young man nodded, "Yes Master, no antics from me for at least another Sevenday. Too many people trying to catch me doing something illegal right now to have any fun."

Rephi still couldn't believe that Sather had wormed his way back into the Weyr. "How'd you get back here? Last I heard you'd left before I had woken and were heading back home." She watched as Sather set the flowers down on the table next to her, and the chocolates next to the chair, which he now sat in. "Would you believe, that I went out to find some flowers and ended up caught in 'Fall helping save a greenriders life?" Rephi shook her head slightly, "Knowing you, I'd call you Pern's worst liar seven ways to *Between*." Sather chuckled, "Well, you best start believing. I just happened to decided to leave the Weyr and go find some flowers while waiting for you to wake up, and low and behold I had to walk nearly the whole way to Ista Hold to find some. Then, as I was picking them, 'Fall started, and I had to make a dash back for the nearest 'Fall shelter where I met up with Hed'ron and a greenrider who'd been hit by a falling sack of Firestone and needed to be cared for while Hed'ron went for help. After the Healer arrived, I gathered up my flowers and ran all the way back, simple as that." Rephi had started laughing roughly halfway through the tale, and she noted that even the Healer was suppressing a smile. "Liar. You got kicked out and somehow got lucky enough to run into Hed'ron before you hit Ista."

Sather threw up his hands in an expression of mock exasperation. "Faranth! A guy tries to do a nice thing for once and look how it gets construed." He smiled mischievously. "I will tell you one thing though; Hed'ron the heavy handed CandidateMaster is all soft on the inside. Halfway back he landed in a field and told me if I didn't find the brightest flowers in the field he'd pitch me off his dragon mid-flight. And that my friend is no lie." Rephi nodded. "And the chocolates? Who did you bribe to get those?" Sather waved a hand at the box casually. "From the rest of the motley bunch of Candidates that call Ista home. You've got about two dozen letters to read as well, from various people around the Weyr. It's like they were all trying to one-up me or something." He faded off, a smile still playing on his lips. Rephi could see he was holding back the single question he had. Silently she thanked him for not going there. An awkward silence hung over the air momentarily, Sather not wanting to probe memories still fresh and painful, Rephi, considering something she'd though about for a long time.

"I've a gift for you as well." She watched, amused as Sather's eyebrows rose questioningly. "Ah, but it's a surprise, you have to close your eyes and lean in closer." Sather did as he was bidden, supposing he was about to be told some secret. So it was an understatement to say that he was surprised when he felt cool lips press gently against his cheek for a second. Barely audible were the words, "Thank you." From the corner the Master Healer watched, pleased with her decision to let the young man in to visit. Yes, he'd turn out to be a good one. As would the girl. A twinkle in her eye she rose, "Alright you two, I hate to break up the party, but it's time for the young lady to have her bandages checked and such. Which means you, young sir, need to leave. If you're so desperate to talk again you can return first thing in the morning."

Still somewhat in shock, Sather rose as bid. "Al-Alright then, Master." Then too Rephi, "I'll be back." A final smile, and then he turned, still blushing furiously, heading for the exit. Both Healer and patient watched Sather exit before looking at each other. "Too far?" A simple shake of the head. "Not at all my dear. I think you surprised him. Very nice." Thus complemented, Rephi contented herself with happy thoughts of spending more time with Sather while the Healer went about her work.


	15. All's Quiet on the Western Front

Part three of my update, and more of a time killer than anything else. Because who doesn't love cards?

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Chapter 15

All's Quiet on the Western Front

"Two gold's people and I do believe that that's the hand for me." Three voices voiced disbelief, "You're joking, no way!" "Come on how, how'd you get that again?" "I think he's a cheat." Brenon threw up his hands in mock exasperation. "Hey it's not my fault that I'm so good at Dragon-Poker. It's all luck most of the time anyway." Rephal chimed in, "Yes, luck and that blasted face of yours. I'd have sworn that all you have was a pair of eights." Emli sighed, counting her dwindling pile of mark pieces. "I think I'll stay one more hand, and then let you three bludgeon each other to death for the rest of the night. Faranth knows that Hed'ron the horrible will have us all up at the Fifth Candlemark, even though we don't have to do chores tomorrow morning." Rephal nodded. "Right Sather, it's your deal I think." The boy nodded, "Alright then, my deal, my game. I'm thinking Five Card Draw." In a practiced motion he shuffled the deck, and after a few seconds more, splitting the deck twice and restacking he lazily began flipping cards to each of the other three players.

Now it wasn't that they weren't allowed to be up at this time of night, Light's out said nothing about if one was awake and happened to be playing cards in the dim light of a single glow, but they all knew to keep it quiet for if K'vo or Hed'ron came by there would be Chores aplenty extra dished out to each. Quiet reigned, while each of the four examined their hands carefully. "Three 16th bits." Emli snorted, "Oh come on, you're bluffing and we all know it Brenon." The red haired boy merely smiled, "Maybe I am, and perhaps I've got four bronzes in my hand." Rephal worked to control a grin, for even as his friend said the very words did he look at three out of four browns along with a gold and a nine. The possibilities here were endless. "Ok, ladies, who needs a card?" This earned a chuckle from Emli, and Rephal, grinning at the joke and at his luck held up a single finger. "Give me one please." The card was dealt, and the boy furrowed his brow, trying figure out his shot at winning. Meanwhile, Sather was not a happy card player. An eight, a six, a three, a Weyrleader, and a two were all well and nice, but well and nice didn't give him a ghost's chance at winning the pot, which stood at near a full mark. Casually, he flipped a 32nd mark into the pile. "Call anyone?" More silence, before Brenon nodded. "Why not? I'll gladly take more of your Marks any day. By the way, How's Rephi getting along?" Sather frowned, "She's bored stiff and still having the damn nightmares. Really, I don't know why the Healers are keeping her still. Physically, she's almost completely healed now. It's mentally she's still having trouble, and for that she needs her friends nearby, not the boring unsympathetic night healer."

The other three nodded. Another moment passed while Emli contemplated her hand. "I guess I'm in for another two cards." Sather flipped two cards from the top of the deck to his fellow Candidate before looking at his own hand once more. "Why not. I'm taking four." The four he received were much better, a three, a five, a four, and a gold. He now had potential, depending on the other's hands. Sadly the potential was shot from the air as cards were turned and Brenon's hand revealed a Weyrleader, a Gold, a Bronze, a Brown, and a ten, all from the same High level wing. Stunned silence filled the room as Brennon raked in his winnings. "And that my lads and lasses is how it's done where I hail from." Emli threw up her hands in disgust, "That's it, I'm done for the night. See you all in the morning." She rose to her feet with her money pouch in hand. "By the way, we might all try and write up a petition for Rephi's release. Not that we can argue with the healers but, if she's pretty much better in body, there's no reason why she can't move back home. In truth, she was missing her roommate, who was one of her few good friends among the class so far.

Rephal rose with her, "I'm done as well. If we're running that blasted obstacle course again tomorrow I'd like to be fairly coherent. Night." The two disappeared, leaving Sather and Brennon along with the deck of cards. "Well then, I suppose, since I'm a grumpy dragon in the morning anyway, that we should turn in now before K'vo makes the midnight candle checks. Rephal nodded in agreement. "I suppose so. By the way mate, that was a nice last hand, you had me hooked right until the gold tried to fall out of your hand early." Brenon stood, grinning. "Aw, well there goes any future as a card shark I guess." Sather rose as well, and comparing tricks the two strode back to their cotroom and a nights peaceful sleep.


	16. This is Not a Drill

And one final short bit I found already written. Not part of my planned update, but since it's here, we'll roll with it.

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Chapter 16

This is not a Drill

"All Hands! All Hands! Everyone up for 'Fall duty! This is not a drill! This is not a drill!" The loud voices of K'vo and Hed'ron rang through the Barracks clearly rousing Candidates from a night's sleep in the earliest hour of morning. It was disconcerting for each and every one of them. Never had they heard this tone from the CandidateMaster and his Assistant. Moreover it was a surprise as they'd never been called to their true Threadfall duty before, not being trusted with the bagging and handing off of Firestone. However, drills had been conducted and at the sound of the raised voices, Candidates swung into motion, then stopped, shocked at the last few words. "This is not a drill." The thoughts of the Candidates varied from astonished to frightened, for none but the senior three had ever truly worked a Threadfall. Under two minutes had passed when the first Candidate, Doran, surprisingly emerged ready to work. He'd eaten something bad for dinner, and his stomach had kept him awake. Now it paid off as he was first out the door.

Moments later Rephal emerged, and Gante not far behind him. Both headed off at a run, Gante tripping but catching himself. "Damn sandals." The senior three emerged almost as one, wide eyed and nervous. The no drill call had everyone nervous. Zanna stumbled out of her cotroom followed by Sri who was wide-eyed and nervous. In the girls mind she was confident that this was all some intricate drill, and outside all she would see is other Candidates running for the firestone dump. However, as she stepped outside and began jogging, her mind received another shock. There were Riders out and readying themselves for Threadfall. The Weyrlings were prepping as well and the Infirmary was a hive of activity. This was the real deal.

Back in the Barracks Hed'ron watched as the last Candidate sprinted for the door before turning to K'vo. "Righ' that's all of 'em. You got the wings first, I'll watch the Candidates. Faranth knows what's going on, but this is going to be real messy if we're not on our toes. He and K'vo took off running as well, but they had less of a distance to go, since their dragons were just outside the Barracks, eyes whirling with alarm. "Use your head lad, and you'll be fine." Final words of wisdom departed, Hed'ron mounted, and in a blur was headed for the Firestone dump and his Candidates. For the first time since their arrival, Hed'ron allowed himself a moment of approval. The call had gone out and they had responded. The class might have hope for itself yet. Might, it all depended on tonight.

Sure enough, the Candidates were all at the Firestone dump and it looked like everything was in place. Now came the tricky part. "Treon,Khat, Emliee, Grenil, Sanna, Renna, Gante, Senon, Merleot, Samean, you're bagging. The rest are tossing to the Weyrlings. Stay sharp lads, lasses, and watch your throws, the dark is going to mess with your aim. Use your head, stay calm, and remember, just like you practiced and you'll be fine. Baggers, watch your stone, don't let the dim light fool you." And then Regoth was speaking to him, "G'ffry says to stand down." Immediately Hed'ron put two and two together, "Tell the Weyrleader that next time he throws a Weyrwide drill to please give a vague hint so as not to scare the life out of his CandidateMaster." Then to the Firestone Dump in general, "Stand down for the moment. Weyrleader says it was a surprise drill."

He tacitly ignored the few comments aimed at the Weyrleader that may or may not have been unpleasant. His class had every right to grumble, a drill at one in the morning that even he didn't know about, now that was unfair. And again his brown spoke, "The Weyrleader says to release from readiness and he compliments us on our response time." Hed'ron relaxed, and bellowed to the general populace of Candidates, "Well done, the Weyrleader says to release back to sleep." There was more grumbling. "After you've put everything back away." Louder grumbling, but Hed'ron ignored it, both pleased and aggravated. Any way around it, the drill was over and they could all get a few more Candlemarks of sleep before morning's true arrival.

Slowly but surely his Candidates put away firestone and the equipment needed to run the firestone dump. All the adrenaline was gone, and instead of taking five minutes the task took fifteen. "You're losing sleep Candidates, finish up and then back to the Barracks. Quickly now." The activity increases in pace slightly, and Hed'ron knew that he couldn't ask much more of the group. Finally the dump was secure and in one's and two's Candidates drifted back to the Barracks and one of the deepest sleeps yet experienced during their stay at the Weyr. Riding Regoth back to his Weyr and the Barracks, Hed'ron resolved to give his class an extra few Candlemarks to sleep in for their response earlier. They'd earned it. And together taken the first true step towards earning his approval for the Hatching. Perhaps the class wasn't as bad as he originally thought, and the worst was now over. Ah, but that was optimism and Hed'ron knew that it was a thing he couldn't afford right now. Not at the critical stage where the class would either make itself or break itself. The first of what he considered real lessons were tomorrow-today. Mental correction aside, the class would have to draw together more than ever, for with the response tonight, for better or for worse, his Candidates were going to be working the next Threadfall.

* * *

And with that, perhaps the Candidates have a fighting chance yet. Only time and a few more chapters will tell. Also I need your help. A few chapters back the Weyrleader mentioned that the Candidates would have a day with a dragonrider. I need your pm or review telling me just which character you'd like to follow. Any of the candidates mentions in previous chapters are fair game.

~The Author.


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